


The Drug In Me Is You

by wickedarcher_08



Series: Saints of the Sinners [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Ashton is a fucking mess, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Drowning, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Explicit Drug Use, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hate fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love/Hate, Luke is kind of fucked up, M/M, Mafia AU, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Overdosing, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Trafficking, Smut, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 119,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedarcher_08/pseuds/wickedarcher_08
Summary: After jumping from a cliff, Louis and Harry fight for survival. Ashton and Luke, they just fight because they can't seem to get it right.------------My bodies tremblin' sends shivers down my spineAdrenaline kicks and shifts into overdrive,Your secrets keep you sick your lies keep you aliveSnake eyes every single time you roll with crooked diceI felt the darkness as it tried to pull me downThe kind of dark that haunts a hundred year old houseI wrestle with my thoughts I shook the hand of doubtRunning from my past I'm praying feet don't fail me now!
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Series: Saints of the Sinners [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873633
Comments: 98
Kudos: 62





	1. Cotton Candy

**Author's Note:**

> I know, it's been four point three LONG weeks, but you all survived! 
> 
> I am extremely nervous to post this book! It is very different than anything I've ever written before, and I haven't seen anything quiet like this in the fandom. I hope you all will give it a chance. 
> 
> This is no way reflects any of the boys (both in 1d and 5sos) or how I view them. This is purely a work of FICTION. The characters are mine and came from my brain. I used names and physical characteristics. That's it. I do want to warn you, just like the last book, there is a fair bit of violence in this one. There are minor character deaths and lots of angst. Another big trigger in this book is the heavy drug use throughout. I did my best not to romanticize drug abuse, but I wanted it to be a realistic depiction. Anything incorrect about the drug usage in this fic are mine, and mine alone because I will admit, I have never done any hardcore drugs. I did do a shit ton of research, so I hope that will show in my writing. 
> 
> Speaking of my writing, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter. 
> 
> Last but not least, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> Okay, I'm sure you all have skipped this by now, enjoy xx

_There's something about the way_  
_Our bedsheets turn religion upside down_  
_So we just have sex to solve all our problems_  
_Let's do it again_  
_And I wanna get stuck between your teeth like cotton candy_  
_So you'll remember me, darling- YungBlud_

**_Sunday Night…._ **

“I just feel like we should be doing something to help him,” Ashton says, the wall coming closer so he turns on the spot, continuing his pacing of the living room. He is anxious for his friend, feeling as though he is about to jump out of his skin. He could use about a gallon of liquor and a dozen xanax, which both can be done. 

“Ash, babe, you need to calm down,” Luke responds, and Ashton glances at him. He is in the exact same position he was three seconds ago when Ashtonhad looked his way. Luke is sitting in the chair, his long legs bent at the knee, while his elbows rests upon them. He is looking at Ashton with worried blue eyes, but there is something else there. A fire that makes Ashton even more uneasy. 

“I’m worried. Aren’t you worried about Louis? He’s our friend, and he is probably marching off to his death right about now.” Ashton’s voice gets louder with the spike of his anger, stopping mid step to gesture with his right hand. He has no idea if that is the direction of the Style’s mansion, but he isn’t thinking about that. 

“Yes, of course, I’m worried about him, but we can’t do anything,” Luke responds, his tone dismissive. Ashton wants to choke him. He isn’t really the angry type. He tends to be cold and calculated in his approach to life, but no one makes him lose his temper faster than Luke. Ashton takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he doesn't lash out at anyone, even Luke. 

“We could go over there. There has to be something we can do, Luke,” Ashton insists, even though he knows Luke is right. They are helpless, but Ashton really hates this feeling. It makes him uncomfortable, itching just to assist his friend in any way. He wants to fix it, but he can’t. Luke reaches for him, grabbing his hand and pulling Ashton down. He goes easily, feeling defeated. Luke pulls Ashton’s thigh, bringing it over his lap, so that Ashton is straddling him. 

“There’s not. Why don’t you let me distract you, babe?” Luke asks, his tone switching from annoyed to seductive in an instant. He begins peppering kisses on Ashton’s neck, teeth scraping the skin there. Ashton shivers, his body responding right away, but his brain is still thinking about his friend. How he wants to help him. 

“I’m worried,” Ashton says, the words coming out almost like a whine. Luke is gripping his ass though, grinding his hardening dick up into Ashton’s crotch. Ashton stutters out a breath, the sensation battling with his anxiety, actually becoming a distraction. Luke is good at that. Distracting him. Somedays that’s all he is for Ashton. Some days, that's all Ashton needs, though. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Luke whispers, fingers ghosting over the zipper of Ashton’s jeans as he nips at his neck. Ashton can feel his half lidded eyes widen at Luke’s words, anger replacing arousal in an instant. Fucking Luke. He drives him crazy, but at the same time he just can’t seem to get enough. He pulls away from Luke, getting off of his lap completely. 

“It does matter, Luke. How could you say it doesn’t? We need to help him. We could go there and… and…” Ashton looks frantically around the room, trying to think of something that he could do to help. He can just feel something is happening right now, but he doesn't know what. He just wants to help in some way, and he doesn't understand Luke’s refusal. 

“And do what, Ash? What the fuck would we do when we got there?” Luke asks, standing up from his seat, but he keeps his head down so that he stays eye level with Ashton. Ashton can see the outline of his hard dick through his tight jeans. His own hard length mirrors it, but he isn’t going to give in this time. Luke looks angry all of the sudden, his blue eyes ablaze with an eerie light, but it’s not shocking. This is their relationship after all. They scream at each other and fuck. That’s it. 

“I don’t know Luke? Don’t you care? Don’t you feel like you should be doing something?” Ashton asks, each question coming out sharper than the last. Luke doesn't even flinch while Ashton feels like his skin is seconds away from being ripped off. He scratches at the scars on his arms, a reminder of this feeling, and what this feeling leads to. He needs to get a grip. He can’t go back to that. 

“Not really! What is this stupid fucking obsession you have with Louis? Why do you always stick out your neck for him? Why are you always so loyal to him? What the fuck did he do to deserve that?” Luke screams, and here they fucking go again. Jealousy. Ashton is so fucking sick of Luke’s jealousy. Ashton isn’t a jealous person. He just doesn't give a fuck about anyone enough to be jealous. He and Luke are nothing more than friends who get off with each other, so he doesn’t quite understand why Luke is obviously so jealous of his friendship with Louis. 

“Stop with this jealousy shit, Luke. I don’t fuck Louis like I fuck you. I’ve never fucked Louis. He’s just my friend. I always come back to you,” Ashton responds, as he steps closer to Luke, glancing down at his still hard dick. He knows that his words fall on deaf ears, though. Luke never fucking listens to what he has to say. It’s like he refuses to, or he has a mental block, not wating to believe a single fucking word that comes out of Ashton’s mouth. 

“Because I know you want to fuck him. You two would probably run away together at the first opportunity. He always flirts with you, Ashton. Are you fucking blind?” Luke asks, his mouth inches away from Ashton’s. He barely resists the urge to kiss the other man. He wants to. He doesn't know why. When they fight though, he just wants to kiss him just to get him to stop fucking talking, to stop with his incessant ranting over stupid fucking illogical shit. 

“No, I don’t. Why the fuck are you always so insecure? I don’t want to fuck Louis. I only want fuck you...” Ashton responds, his tone even despite the fact that he wants to scream. He almost adds the fact that Luke fucks other people, and that Luke is the reason they aren’t actually together. He doesn't, though. He never does. He doesn’t want to be mean to Luke. He doesn't want to say shit he will regret, and things he doesn't mean, even though Luke can’t seem to give him the same respect. He can’t stoop to that level. 

“Then why do you constantly flirt with him? Jesus fucking christ, if he asked you to suck his dick, don’t act like you wouldn’t,” Luke spits, stepping away from Ashton to scream the question. He can still feel Luke’s breath on his face though, so soft despite the harsh accusations. This isn’t the first time they have had this argument, and Ashton feels like he’s is on a fucking carousel, not being able to get the haunted thing to stop. Everything is spinning, and all he sees are the same fucking blurry images, unable to focus on one before the ride moves again. Luke is the fucking ride. 

“No I wouldn’t. I don’t like him like that. He’s just my friend, Luke. You know this. I’ve told you this. He’s just my friend,” Ashton insists, his voice on the verge of pleading. Why can’t Luke just understand? Luke is shaking his head, obviously not hearing anything Ashton is trying to tell him. Ashton wants to scream at him, but he doesn’t. He refuses. Ashton isn’t the type to scream. Screaming is for weak people who can’t get their point across any other way. Ashton refuses to be that type of person, so he always keeps his tone even. He doesn't let his anger control him. 

“I don’t actually believe that. I see the way you look at him. I’m not stupid,” Luke says, rolling his eyes and turning away. Ashton bites his lip wanting to say the words in his head. Wanting to point out the fact that Luke fucks another person all the godsdamned time, and Ashton never says a fucking word about it. He doesn't care that Luke fucks other people. That’s not it. It’s the fact that Luke is a fucking hypocrite. Ashton hates hypocrites, but he can’t bring himself to hate Luke. He’s tried. 

“I never said you were stupid. You’re the smartest fucking person I know, but you sure as fuck can act like an idiot,” Ashton replies, forgetting himself for a moment. He takes a deep breath to try to calm himself down, refusing to say anything he will regret. “That’s fine if you don't believe me, Luke, but it’s the truth.” Ashton attempts to put as much conviction into his voice as possible. Sometimes, when they are together, and things are good, he thinks that Luke may actually believe him. When things are bad though, they are really shitty. When Luke is in a mood, it’s like he is hell bent on making Ashton’s life a living hell, too. The fact that Ashton continuously puts up with it just shows how much of a masochist he truly is. 

“Whatever. I just don’t understand what he did to deserve your loyalty. Doesn’t feel like you’re all that loyal to me.” Manipulation is dripping off of every single inflection of Luke’s words, coating them so thickly, Ashton can almost see it on his breath. Ashton wants to say it. The words are on the tip of his tongue, begging to be released.  _ You’re talking about loyalty when you’re the only one in this that has been consistently fucking someone else.  _ Ashton keeps them in his mind though, taking a few deep breaths to get a grip even though he very much wants to fucking scream. 

“You’re loyal to him, too, Luke. We both are. Louis is our friend,” Ashton points out, his tone quiet despite the screams in his head. Ashton doesn't like to lose his cool. It doesn’t happen very often, or at all. He prefers to keep his voice even and his thoughts measured. Staying ahead of the conversation, anticipating Luke’s next words. That’s how he approaches physical fights, as well. 

“Fuck this,” Luke spits, turning around and grabbing the leather jacket he had draped over the back of the couch when he came over earlier. Ashton’s head is fucking spinning. He has no idea what just happened. Luke just decided he is going to leave? Why? Ashton didn’t even say anything that would make him angry. He could have said so much worse. Ashton is the one that should be angry after this dumpster fire of a conversation, not Luke. 

“Where are you going?” Ashton asks, on a sigh. He almost doesn’t even question it and lets him go. It would be so much easier if Ashton just didn’t care for him. He does, though. He’s a fucking masochist because he may or may not love Luke. Someone who is so goddamned selfish, he can’t see the forest for all of the trees. Is it terrible that Ashton just wants to lead him out? To help him. If someone doesn’t help him, then Luke will surely destroy himself. Ashton can’t stand the idea of just standing by to watch. 

“Out,” Luke responds, shortly, turning to walk towards the door, not putting on his jacket even though it’s cold out. 

“Out where?” Ashton questions, grabbing Luke’s arm to halt his steps. He just needs to know that Luke isn’t going to do something stupid after their arguement, and Ashton’s rejection of sex. He almost gives in then. He almost pulls Luke into a heated kiss just to stop him from leaving, give him what he wants. No. Ashton’s too stubborn for that shit, and he hates giving Luke what he wants when he is being whiny. He just can’t bring himself to do it even though he knows it would probably put a stop to all of this shit. But only for tonight. 

“With Riley.” Luke doesn't turn to Ashton to give him his answer, as if he can’t bring himself to look him in the eyes as to say it. A chill goes up Ashton’s spine. Fucking Riley. Ashton sort of hates him, even though he knows he shouldn’t. Riley is just like Luke. He shouldn’t be blamed for Luke’s behavior, but anytime they hang out together, shit hits the fan. They feed off each other, and Ashton fucking hates it. 

“Don’t.” The request is soft leaving Ashton’s lips, which gets Luke to actually look at him. Ashton begs him with his eyes, not wanting to say the actual words. He grips Luke’s bare arm, his eyes traveling over the expanse of his exposed collarbones where the black t-shirt is ripped. Ashton wants to trace the holes; he wants to feel the smattering of hair on Luke’s chest with his finger tips. 

“Why not?” Luke asks, his own words softening in comparison to the intensity that was there just moments ago. His blue eyes are searching Ashton’s as if there is something Ashton could say to get him to stay. Ashton doesn't know what the fuck that would be, though. He searches is brain for anything, but the only thing he could think of his pulling him into his room and fucking him until both of them forget everything but the feeling of each other. That’s not an option, though. Ashton doesn't want that tonight. Not right now. 

“Because I know what you’re going to do when you meet up with him?” Ashton finally answers, but it comes out more like a question, an inflection at the end of the statement. It’s the best answer he can muster, though. He hopes it’s enough. He glances down, the words feeling too real for Ashton’s liking. He doesn't like to voice his thoughts, unless it’s to take the piss out of someone. He prefers to keep things lighthearted and fun. He pretends he isn’t a giant fucking mess of a human. 

“Yeah? So? It’s not like you care,” Luke says, and that causes Ashton’s eyes to snap up again. He thinks Luke is joking, but the look on his face says otherwise. His question accusation is completely serious, and Ashton finds himself wanting to scream yet again. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that Luke’s irrational behavior isn’t totally his fault. 

“You know I care, Luke. I care a lot.” Ashton’s voice is barely above a whisper. It takes a lot for Ashton to say that out loud. He’s not very good at expressing his feelings. He has never been that great at the mushy gushy stuff, the romance and all of that shit that people seem to want in relationships. Perhaps it’s why he’s never been in a relationship outside of whatever fucking mess this is with Luke. 

“You sure as fuck don’t act like it,” Luke responds, eyes cast down. It makes Ashton’s heart ache. It’s not like he doesn’t ever tell Luke how much he cares for him. He does. He just doesn't do it in the traditional sense. Ashton shows that he cares in small ways, but Luke seems to only understand grand gestures. Ashton can’t give him that. He can’t seem to give him what he needs, and he doesn't know why he even tries. He’s just not enough for Luke, and he will never be enough for Luke. Fuck. “Anyways, I’m going to hang out with Riley.”

“Fine. I’ll go with,” Ashton relents, feeling as though he isn’t given much choice, grabbing his own jacket. If Luke is insisting on going, then Ashton needs to be there to protect him. He needs to make sure he doesn’t do anything completely fucking stupid or to talk him out of trouble when he and Riley inevitably get into it. 

“You sure?” Luke asks, and Ashton finds himself nodding even though he isn’t sure. He hates hanging out with Riley. When they get together, Luke always gets way too fucked up. Asthon usually has to go with him to ensure Luke stays safe all night. He doesn't know what he would do if something bad ever did happen to Luke. He would regret never sharing his feelings, that’s for damn sure. 

“Yeah. I need to get fucked up,” Ashton answers, pulling on his coat and grabbing Luke’s hand. Luke smiles at him, as if this is what he wanted all along. It may be, and it almost makes Ashton’s steps come to a grinding halt. He hates giving Luke what he wants especially when he manipulates to get it. Ashton takes a deep breath though, continuing into the cool night air, shutting the door firmly behind them. Ashton glances down at his phone, finding nothing from Louis there. At Luke’s glare, Ashton shoves the phone back into his pocket, pushing his worry for his friend to the back of his mind. 

___________

As soon as they enter the noisy club and check their coats, Luke makes a b-line for where he knows Riley will be. He doesn't even bother telling Ashton where he is going nor does he spare him a glance. He knows his actions probably hurt Ashton, but he can’t seem to care. He just needs to find Riley. Riley can give him what he needs, so that’s where Luke goes. He knows this club well. He comes to it often with Riley or Ashton, sometimes both, like tonight. He finds the stairway, nodding to the guard there. He quickly goes up, searching for a blond head of hair. 

“Luke! Over here!” He hears a familiar voice say, and he whips his head around, finding Riley sitting on a couch, surrounded by three women. They are all wearing skimpy outfits and are hanging off the man like new clothes. Luke’s eyebrows reach his hairline, but he doesn't say anything, the brunette on the end scooting over to make room. He glances up, finding that Ashton has followed him. The other man is standing nearby, but not close enough to hear anything they are saying. He’s just casually watching, as if he wants to keep an eye on Luke. He probably does. 

“Hey bro,” Luke greets, shaking Riley’s hand then sliding it into a slapping motion followed by a fist bump. It’s the handshake they made up when they were kids, and they always greet each other with it, even to this day. Riley’s blonde hair looks gray in the light of the room, but his eyes are still very blue, much like Luke’s own. They are bright with a hint of mischievousness. Luke glances back towards Ashton again, finding that he has disappeared. His brows crease in worry for a split second before he turns his attention back to Riley.

“Need an eight ball?” Riley asks, cutting right to the point. Luke had already texted him about it though. He is running low, and he really needs it tonight. He needs to feel numb and happy, especially after his conversation with Ashton. He knows he was a dick to him, but he couldn’t help it. He always gets angsty when it’s been a while since his last bump. He gets cranky and irritable and tends to take it out on the person closest to him. It’s always Ashton, too. He feels bad about it however he doesn’t know how to stop it, and he knows Ashton will take it. He will take it with very little resistance, and he will forgive Luke. He may as well be a saint. 

“Yeah. Just until I can get some more from Cherry. I’ll owe you one,” Luke responds, smiling at Riley. He’s itching to get it in his hands. He just wants to see it. Seeing it will make him feel so much better, more centered. Just talking about it makes him less angry because he is so close. He is close to euphoria. He is close to numbness. He is close to forgetting about all of this shit. 

“No worries. I barely use snow anymore. I’ve moved on to bigger and better things,” Riley says with a smirk, gesturing to his pocket. Luke knows exactly what he is referring to. Heroin. He can see the track marks on his arm. Luke should talk to him about it, but that would make him a hypocrite. Heroin makes sense for Riley, though. It was only a matter of time. Cocaine is too expensive for most, and Riley doesn't really have the same income Luke does. Luke already spends far too much on his habit, making him live in a one room apartment in a shitty part of town. 

“Why don’t you tell your boyfriend to join us?” Riley asks, and Luke is confused, looking in the direction Riley gestured. He sees Ashton at the bar, a line of shots in front of him. He drinks the last one, eyes scrunching up at the taste in the most adorable way then coughing once. It must be tequila. Ashton hates tequila, but always drinks it when he wants to get fucked up. Luke allows himself a soft smile at the sight, finding Ashton’s small mannerisms incredibly endearing.

“He’ll be over in a minute, I’m sure,” Luke responds, his voice reflecting the softness on his face. He sees Riley waving at Ashton out of his peripheral vision, beckoning the other man over to them. He doesn't even correct Riley’s ‘boyfriend’ comment, learning long ago that people do not listen to his denials. Ashton isn’t his boyfriend, though. Ashton doesn’t love him, well not in the same way Luke loves Ashton. He’s just a good fuck to Ashton, and he loves him like friend. They’ve never discussed this, but Luke knows it deep in his heart. 

“Hey Riley,” Ashton greets a moment later, his smile wide. He is carrying two drinks in his hand. One is a mixed drink of some sort and the other is just clear. Ashton is so cheery in his greeting, no one would know how much he actually dislikes Riley. Well, Luke thinks that Ashton doesn’t actually hate him, but he doesn't really know why Ashton doesn’t like him. The man is so tight-lipped about his thoughts, Luke doesn't know what he is thinking most of the time. “Here you go, babe. Got you a tequila on the rocks.” 

“Thanks,” Luke responds, taking the drink from Ashton’s large hand. Ashton smiles down at him, lighting up the dark atmosphere of the club. He’s so sweet and considerate, and Luke sort of hates himself for putting him through all of the shit that he does. Maybe he just wants Ashton to hate him as much as he hates himself. Luke almost pulls Ashton down on his lap, but is distracted by the eight ball Riley has thrown casually on the table in front of them. Luke glances around, but no one is paying them any attention. His heart starts racing at the sight. 

“Have a seat,” Riley says, gesturing to the chair on the side of the table. Ashton nods, sitting down and taking another sip of his mixed drink. Luke can tell Ashton is already feeling the buzz of the alcohol, his eyes alight with it. He has one lone curl on his forehead, the rest combed back, hugging the curve of his skull. His fingers are long and elegant, a silver ring adorning his pointer finger. He looks so damn pretty, Luke could weep. 

“What’s been happening in your world?” Luke asks, grabbing the small velvet drawstring bag from his pocket, and pulling it open with shaky fingers. He turns the bag over, shaking it so the items inside spill out onto the table. Next he picks up the eight ball, pouring enough out for a few lines to get him started for the night. It comes out in hardened chunks, so Luke grabs the straight razor he just shook from the bag. The whole act is relaxing, his body moving with familiarity of the task. His limbs are no longer shaking, his body slowly settling just from seeing the powdery substance in front of him. 

“Not much. Mom called. Wanted to know when we were going to come visit.” Luke can hear the strain in Riley’s voice, so he looks up, finding Riley’s features drawn in discomfort from the statement. Luke takes a healthy drink of his tequila, the burning sensation sliding down the back of his throat somehow making the subject matter less uncomfortable. He turns his attention back on the coke in front of him, beginning to chop the larger chunks into a fine powder. He can feel Ashton’s hazel eyes following the swipe of the razor. It actually used to be Ashton’s razor, and Luke stole it. They both use it for harmful things, so it’s only fitting. 

“What did you tell her?” Luke asks, not looking up from the lines he has begun to make from the now fine powder. Another thrill shoots up his spine, traveling to his heart. He doesn't really want to think about his mom or his family. At the thought of family, for some reason, Luke’s mind takes him to his other family. The fact that Louis could be fighting for his life right now. Luke pushes any thought of that man from his mind, refusing to feel bad or guilty. He wants to be happy. Almost there.

“I changed the subject of course. I didn’t need the lecture,” Riley answers, and Luke can hear the eyeroll. He feels sort of bad. Their mom loves them and wants what’s best for them. Their whole family does. He used to be close to his family, but that was before Luke fucked up and made a total fucking mess of his life. They live just outside of the city, but Luke typically goes months without seeing them. He also avoids his mother’s phone calls for weeks at a time. He should probably answer the next time she calls though, or she may call the police and file a missing persons report. 

“I get that, bro,” Luke responds because he agrees with his brother. He doesn't need the lecture. He doesn't have a problem, so they don’t need to be worried. He only uses socially when he wants to have fun or wants to forget. It’s no different than alcohol, and Luke hates how she makes it such a big fucking deal. It’s not. He can quit whenever he wants. He’s fine. 

“So how’s the IT business?” Riley asks, sitting back on the couch and placing his ankle on his knee. With that question, Luke glances over at Ashton, a small smile playing across his face. Luke’s family thinks he works in IT even though he fucked out of college. The lie works on them though, for whatever reason. Luke has found that his family will choose blissful ignorance over the harsh truth, even when it’s right in front of them. The IT story doesn’t really add up, but they want to believe it over the alternative. 

“It’s fine. Nothing interesting ever happens in my line of work,” Luke responds, and Ashton giggles, the sound light and airy, making Luke smile. Fuck. He loves Ashton’s giggle. He wishes he could hear it for the rest of his life, but that will never happen. Instead of dwelling on that fact, Luke grabs his titanium snorting straw, bringing his face down to the first line of coke. The familiar almost paint thinner-like smell hits his nostrils, making his mouth water and his heart race. 

He holds one nostril closed, placing one end of the straw inside the other. He exhales, inhaling quickly through the one nostril on the next breath. He can feel the powdery substance being sucked into his nasal cavity, the familiar taste of chlorine in the back of his throat. It doesn’t burn anymore, which is a testament to how good the stuff actually is. Luke tilts his head back as he continues to pull air quickly through his nose, wanting to ensure he gets every last particle into his system. 

He can feel the cocaine work its way up through his sinus cavity quickly, his entire face going numb in a matter of seconds. He knows the exact moment it hits his brain because he’s instantly happier and more focused. He does the other lines quickly, taking drinks of vodka in between, always trying to recreate the high he got the first time he ever did it. He will never forget that moment. He has never felt more happy and carefree in his entire life, and he has been wanting to relive that feeling ever since. It also gives Luke the ability to focus, which is rare for him. That’s one of the reasons he likes it so much. It helps him have fun, but also keeps him focused on long nights of hacking into computer systems. 

“Ashy. ‘Mere,” Luke whines, feeling more bold than he normally would, as he grabs Ashton’s hand and pulls him over to him. Ashton goes easily, the drink in his hand now almost gone. Luke pulls him down into his lap, enjoying the feeling of Ashton’s mostly limp body. Luke’s heart begins to race with adrenaline and the drug coursing through his system. He feels unstoppable in this moment, as if he could do anything in the world and survive. Right now, all he wants to do is show Ashton how sorry he is for picking a fight with him earlier. 

“Feeling better baby?” Ashton asks, his voice soft with a hint of seduction. Luke nods in response, craning his head to kiss Ashton’s lips. The bitter taste of tequila greets Lukes tongue, followed by the sweetness of whatever mixed drink Ashton had just finished. The six shots of tequila he had drank at the bar have obviously made him tipsy, his body relaxing easily into Luke. It takes more than that to get Ashton fucked up though, the other man having developed a tolerance to alcohol almost as much as Luke has to cocaine. Neither of them are that fucked up yet, so they will probably just keep going until they forget their names.

“Wanna dance?” Luke asks, breaking the kiss to look into Ashton’s eyes. He bites his full lip, nodding a moment later. Luke knows how much Ashton secretly loves to dance. He never tells anyone because he thinks it will mess with his fighter reputation, but the man has better rhythm than anyone Luke has ever met. Luke cleans up the remains of the cocaine, using his wet finger to collect everything on the table and spreading it onto his gums. He runs his tongue along them a moment later, wanting to taste it again. He ties off the baggy with the remaining amount, planning to use most of it later tonight. 

Ashton grabs his hand, pulling at it impatiently. Luke laughs, finishing his drink and telling his brother goodbye before he follows Ashton down into the main part of the club, body swaying to the loud baseline of the music. They get another drink at the bar, taking them into the crowd, where Luke immediately begins grinding on Ashton. His body is starting to heat up, sweat erupting from every pore, the club feeling like it is on the surface of the sun. 

Luke is in love with this feeling. All of his senses feel heightened, and he just forgets. He forgets how to be sad. He forgets how to be angry. He isn’t worried. He is just living in the moment with Ashton, grinding on his hardening cock and tasting the drip in the back of his throat every time he sniffs his nose. Luke isn't addicted to cocaine, he is addicted to this feeling. He isn’t afraid of a goddamned thing. He is almost sure he could take over the world if he wanted, so he pulls Ashton closer, whispering in his ear, “Need you to fuck me.” 

“Okay, let's go back to my place,” Ashton responds, his long fingers gripping Luke’s hips hard. Luke moans straight into Ashton’s ear, his cock now stiff and throbbing in the confines of his tight jeans. 

“No. Can’t wait that long. Need you. Bathroom,” Luke whines, kissing Ashton’s neck, careful not to bite down on the skin because his jaw has begun to clench. He doesn't want to draw blood, so he sticks with kissing the sensitive flesh. He grips Ashton's shirt, squirming against him. Ashton nods once and that’s all the confirmation Luke needs. He grabs his hand, pulling him into a kiss as he walks them off the dance floor into the bathroom. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Ashton mumbles, slamming Luke’s body against the wall of the bathroom once they are inside. Luke doesn't even bother glancing around to see if there are others present. He doesn’t give a fuck. He would let them watch if that’s what it takes to get Ashton inside of him right fucking now. Ashton is pushing him again, and Luke thinks they have made their way into the largest bathroom stall, which isn't to say much because it’s still tiny. 

“Yeah? You like it though, don’t you? You like when I’m your dirty boy,” Luke responds, the words loud and breathy. When he isn’t under the influence, Luke tends to be shy, in bed or otherwise. That’s another reason why he likes to use cocaine. He likes the person he is while he is under its influence. He likes throwing caution to the wind. He likes saying what he wants and what he is thinking. He likes being uninhibited and telling Ashton exactly what he needs. 

“Yes. I can’t get enough,” Ashton responds, his words slurred, his eyes glassy in the light of the bathroom. His hair is disheveled from Luke’s fingers, and his cheeks, lips and neck are red from the alcohol, exertion and probably the fact that he is incredibly turned on. Luke wants to kiss him again, so he does. He kisses him hard and fast, gripping his hair with one hand and ass with the other. Ashton moans, biting down on Luke’s lip so hard, he can taste blood. Yes. Ashton is punishing him for being a dick earlier. Luke deserves it, so he’s not upset over the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He’s learned to love it over the years. 

“Fuck me, Ash. Please. Fuck me. Need it,” Luke whines, and then the stall is spinning. It takes his brain a moment to realize that Ashton has turned him so that he is facing the wall. A few seconds later, cold air hits Luke’s hard cock, and Luke moans, bucking into nothing. Ashton’s long fingers are circling his hole a moment later, wet with lube that he must have had in his pocket. Fuck. Everything feels like it is moving entirely too fast but in slow motion at the same time. 

“Stop being so whiny,” Ashton says, the threat in his voice enough to make Luke clamp his mouth shut. He knows Ashton hates it when he is whiny, but he can’t help it. He needs Ashton, and sometimes he doesn’t even feel like Ashton is with him. When they are fucking, Ashton is with him completely, and it feels like it’s the only time he has his full attention. Luke feels like Ashton’s brain is in a different plane, one that Luke can’t reach, and it’s frustrating as hell. When they fight and fuck though, he has Ashton’s undivided attention. 

“Fuck,” Luke moans, when Ashton rewards him by pressing a finger inside him. Luke bucks back, wanting more already. He doesn't give a fuck if it hurts him. He wants to feel it all. He wants Ashton to punish him. He fucking deserves it for being such a prick. Luke’s body freezes when the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the music from outside getting louder, then the dull thud of footsteps. 

“Not alone anymore, I guess. You like that, though. Think he will wanna join us? Think he will wanna fuck you too since you’re such a little whore. Maybe you can snort coke off his dick? He would probably like that.” Ashton’s voice is low, the words coming out menacing, laced with something entirely too sexy. He presses another long finger in, the cool metal of his ring catching on Luke’s rim making him moan loudly, but he is avoiding his spot. Ashton pulls his hair in warning, telling him to stay quiet while he continues to fuck him with two fingers, the image of snorting coke off Ashton’s dick dancing in front of Luke’s eyes as he bites his lip to stay quiet. 

“Maybe I’ll just stop and ask him if he wants you instead. Can he give you what you need? Huh?” Ashton asks, his lips whispering the words directly in Luke's ear, hot breath tickling him. Luke’s brain is short circuiting, all the sensations around him feel like too much, yet not enough. His senses are heightened, every single thing feeling like more than it ever has been. He never wants to come down. When Luke doesn’t answer, Ashton removes his fingers abruptly. Luke whines at the loss, shaking his head furiously. 

“No. Please. He can’t. Only you. Please, Ash. Only you,” Luke responds, his voice hurried and frenzied as he looks over his shoulder, finding Ashton’s hazel eyes glowing in the low light of the room. He smiles at Luke’s response, and he almost sighs in relief. He doesn't get a chance though, because Ashton’s long fingers are digging into his bare hips, pulling him so that he is bending at the waist. On instinct, Luke spreads his legs as wide as the tight pants around his ankles will allow, trying to adjust to their height difference. 

“Okay. Baby. Okay, shh,” Ashton soothes, fingers running through Luke’s curls a moment later. They are soaked with sweat, but Ashton doesn’t seem to mind. Luke thinks the man has left the bathroom, having heard the door open and close once more, only the dull sound of thudding music outside. They are lucky more people haven’t come in. The club does have more than one bathroom, and Luke doesn’t care if every inhabitant of the club comes through the bathroom door as long as Ashton starts fucking him soon. 

“Ashy,” Luke whines again, but Ashton must not hear him because he lines himself up and begins pressing in. It stings because Luke wasn’t quite open enough to accommodate Ashton’s girth, but the pleasure far outweighs the pain. Luke doesn't mind pain anyway. He can take it. He’s taken a lot worse, and he can barely feel it with the drugs and alcohol coursing through his veins. He feels like he is flying, and he will take Ashton with him to unknown parts of the world while he is inside of him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, babe, you’re so fucking tight,” Ashton says, his fingertips digging in so harshly, Luke hopes they bruise. Luke moans in response, and Ashton doesn't give him a moment to adjust, bucking his hips hard and fast. Luke moves his body with the thrusts, taking Ashton harder and deeper with each one. His senses are firing on all cylinders, fireworks dancing before his eyes. He reaches down and begins stroking his dick, knowing that neither of them are going to last long. They never do when they’ve built it up so much, and the grinding on the dance floor was almost enough to send Luke over the edge. 

“Harder,” Luke moans, and Ashton obeys his wishes, his thrusts becoming harder, moving Luke’s entire body with his momentum. Luke places a hand on the wall, bracing himself so that Ashton’s body isn’t moving as much, and he is taking the brunt force of it. Holy fucking hell. Luke’s whole body is hot from the pressure, his heart beating rapidly. He feels like he is about to catch fire at any moment, washing over Ashton and the entire room like the sun.

“Not gonna last long,” Ashton says through gritted teeth, his voice more high-pitched than it was before, spurring Luke on. Luke can’t think, the pressure making his brain turn to mush. Ashton’s cock is hitting his spot with each hard thrust, and he has synced the motion of his hand to them, sending him closer and closer to his release. His jaw is hurting from clenching his teeth so hard, as he balls his hand into a fist, banging it against the stall wall. It’s loud, the entire bathroom feeling as though it is vibrating with Luke’s strikes. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Luke chants, his fist slamming the stall to punctuate each harsh curse word. So close. He’s so fucking close. Ashton’s moans are now loud and inhibited, and if there is anyone else in the bathroom, they would surely know what they are doing. Luke loves it, though. Loves having Ashton like this where he isn’t censoring his every word. Where he isn’t fucking thinking. It’s rare, and Luke basks in it like he would in the sun. 

“That’s it. Take it. Only me,” Ashton rambles from behind him, slamming his hips against Luke’s ass. Luke can barely make out the words, blood rushing to his head as he strokes himself faster. He is clenching his teeth so hard, he is afraid his teeth are seconds away from breaking, but he can’t stop. 

“Don’t s-stop,” Luke begs, feeling as though he is seconds away from tears. 

“Don’t stop what?” Ashton asks, his dark voice floating into his ear from behind it. Luke’s brain short circuits attempting to come up with an answer. He knows if he doesn't, then Ashton may very well stop. 

“This. Don’t stop whatever it is you’re doing. Please. Don’t. Fuck. Right there. Shit,” Luke rambles, through gritted teeth, his voice on the edge of begging, but he doesn't care. He’s so hot, he doesn't know how he isn’t burning the club down. Ashton’s hard thrusts should hurt, but Luke has forgotten how to feel pain. He’s forgotten everything except being this moment, seconds away from his body erupting into flames and bathing the whole world in them. Two more strokes of his hand, and he’s coming, jet after jet falling onto the bathroom floor, barely missing his jeans. 

Luke whimpers when Ashton’s hips continue their punishing pace, his body over sensitive after coming. He doesn't tell him to stop though. He doesn't dare. A few moments later, or it could be hours, Ashton groans, his fingers gripping Luke’s hip so hard, he is afraid they will crack bones. Luke can feel Ashton pulsing inside him, and Luke moans in response, wishing he could come again just from the sensation. They’ve never come together though, their bodies seeming to be unable to sync up in such a way. 

“That was…” Ashton’s voice trails off, as he lays his forehead on Luke's back, loosening the grip he has on his hips. Luke tries to finish the sentence for him, but his brain can’t form words at the current moment. He inhales, realizing the chemical taste of the drip is no longer there, and he instantly panics. He remembers the coke in his pocket, and begins to reach in to grab it, wanting to snort some more before it completely wears off. 

Luke pauses when he hears the distinct ringing of Ashton’s phone, a chill going down his spine. No one ever calls Ashton this late, unless it’s Louis. Fuck. Luke’s jealousy over Louis battles with his worry for his friend, the latter winning out. He does hope he is okay. He doesn't want Louis to die or to get seriously injured, he just wants him to stop flirting with Ashton so much. He turns to look back at Ashton who is frowning down at his phone, buttoning his pants with sure fingers, “It’s Simon.” What?

Luke stands abruptly, feeling the come trickle down his leg. Ashton didn’t use a condom. They hardly ever do, usually too lost in the moment to give a fuck. They don’t care if it’s unsafe. They both figure they will die before they are old anyway, so just add it to the list of the ways they could meet their ends. It’s a fucked up way of thinking, but Luke has never claimed to be anything else. Luke grabs some toilet paper, beginning to clean himself up, glancing down at the come as he says, “Answer it.”

Ashton does, then the conversation is mostly one sided. Ashton mostly just responds with affirmatives, like ‘yes’ and ‘okay’, but even in those short words, Luke can hear the unease in his voice. Whatever Simon is saying isn’t good. After cleaning his come from the floor and pulling up his pants, Luke turns around to find tears welling in Ashton’s hazel eyes. Fuck. What could it be? Ashton never cries. Ever. So whatever it is, has to be fucking horrible. Louis. That’s the only explanation, and a chill runs through Luke’s entire body. 

“Yes, Sir. See you tomorrow,” Ashton says, his voice steady, but Luke can hear the tiny inflection of sadness weaving throughout the statement. No one else would probably be able to, certainly not Simon. Luke feels like he is going to be sick, the recent adrenaline and high draining out of his body like water from a cracked jar. Ashton presses the call end button a moment later, looking up with a tear rolling down his cheek. Luke doesn’t know what to do. He has never been in this situation before, but his heart feels like it's seconds away from breaking at the sight. 

“Umm…Well first, Simon wants to see us in his office tomorrow morning,” Ashton starts, taking a deep, shaky breath. That can’t be all there is, though. Not with this reaction. Luke wants to hug him, but he doesn’t. He doesn't think Ashton would appreciate it, never having been much for comfort. Ashton only allows a few people to touch him, and Luke is lucky to be counted among that small number. Even though Luke is among the number, he doesn’t move. He doesn't know how Ashton would react to the touch. 

Ashton clears his throat, wiping his eyes. His lower lip is wobbling, getting thinner as he tries to hold himself together. There is obviously more, and Luke barely resists the urge to tell Ashton to get on with it. He bites his lips, holding his breath as he waits. Ashton opens his mouth three times before he seems to be able to push the words out, “Um… Simon said that Louis and Harry jumped from a cliff at the Styles mansion tonight, and they didn’t resurface from the water. Louis is dead.” 


	2. Killing Ourselves to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep reading...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_Here we are killing ourselves to live_   
_We just need one more hit_   
_And we might just live forever_   
_Oh, here we are_   
_We're going down with this ship_   
_And if this is our last trip_   
_At least we'll go together_   
_We might just live forever- Halestorm_

**_At the same time Sunday night…._ **

“I love you, Harry!” Louis screams, and Harry would have froze with the words, but he’s falling. He can’t even respond because the breath gets ripped from his lungs by the cool night air. He thinks he may have imagined it, but there is something about the way Louis is gripping his hand tightly as they fall into an incy oblivion. Harry realizes he should be scared, petrified with fear, but he’s not. For a split second, with the darkness surrounding them as they fall to what could very well be their doom, he feels free. 

He instinctively keeps his body straight, wanting to limit the surface area that is about to hit the water at any moment now. He braces himself, squeezing Louis’s hand in his own. He didn’t think falling would take this long. It feels like they’ve been running from time for a week, only for it to slow down at the last possible second. 

The first thing Harry registers is an unforgiving surface, his feet feeling as though they hit rock for a split second before the water particles part, allowing his body entrance. Then an incomprehensible cold. The breath he has been holding is ripped from his chest, Louis’ hand breaking away from his the very next second. 

His body’s first response is to breathe in air, but he forces himself to fight it because he is still underwater. Trying to swim to the surface is probably one of the most difficult things he has ever done because limbs are heavy, his flesh numb. He forces his muscles into motion, kicking his legs and moving his arms to propel himself upwards. When he finally resurfaces, he immediately begins hyperventilating, not being able to hold it off any longer. He tries to call out for Louis, but he can’t seem to catch his breath long enough to do so, his cries coming out weak and indistinct. 

He tries to calm himself, slow his breathing, but he’s so fucking cold. His limbs are trembling, the sound of his teeth painfully clacking together can be heard over the churning sea around him. He does everything he can to fight the current and keep his head above water, even though it is increasingly difficult given his body’s reaction to the sudden freezing temperature. The cold night air is not helping anything, freezing his curls in place. He desperately looks around, trying to find Louis, hoping he emerges, but all he is met with is darkness. It is as if he is staring too close to an ink stain, not being able to see the white paper around it. 

He moves around frantically, trying to feel for anything that may be Louis’ body floating to the surface. His breaths are still coming out in quick, sharp huffs, his body shaking so violently he is afraid his bones will break at any moment. “Louis,” he manages to get out between chattering teeth, but the name can barely be heard over his racing heart. He feels like he would be crying, but his tears are literally frozen in his ducts, never to join the water he is currently dying in. 

“Louis! Please! Louis,” Harry says, louder this time, his body beginning to calm down, adjusting to the unrelenting cold surrounding him. A moment later, his hand brushes against something. Whatever it is feels smooth and soft, forgiving under Harry’s touch. He spins around, finding Louis. His whole body is shaking violently, and Harry can’t tell if he’s even conscious. Harry grabs a hold of him, his flesh so cold Harry isn’t sure there is any warmth left in his veins. 

Harry’s survival instinct kicks in then, recalling the swimming lessons his mother had enrolled him in when he was younger. There had been an entire unit on how to save someone from drowning. He never thought he would have to put it into practice, but all of the memories come rushing back. He grabs Louis, turning his body around so that he is facing away from Harry. His small, trembling body is supported by Harry’s chest, while Harry uses one hand to ensure that his head stays above water.

Harry positions Louis’ head on his shoulder, wrapping an arm securely around his chest as he begins to backstroke, fighting the current. He can only use one arm to help propel them towards the shore, so he kicks his feet hard, his Gucci loafers suddenly feeling like two ton weights. His entire body is shaking, and he feels like he is swallowing more sea water than he is swimming through. His throat burns from it, each breath he manages to take is like swallowing glass. His heart is beating madly, the fear of drowning keeping his blood pumping instead of completely paralyzing him. He has to get them to safety. He has to. 

He tries to keep his breathing even, doing everything he can to keep them afloat, but it feels like he is fighting a losing battle. The current is so strong, he doesn’t think he is making any progress. His back is turned toward the shore, so he has no idea how far he has left to go. He has to keep going though. Louis is depending on him. The smaller man is still shaking, and Harry can’t tell if he is conscious or if his eyes are even open. It’s too dark to make out any of his features, but Louis’ hasn’t moved at all. Fuck. What if he’s dead? What if he has drowned? What if he hit his head on a rock, and Harry can’t see the injury yet? 

Harry must get them to shore, but a little voice in the back of his head is telling him to give up, to just surrender himself and Louis to the churning sea. They are as good as dead anyway. Even if they do manage to make it to shore, Simon will find them and kill them. What’s the point of fighting to live when you will just die in the end anyway? It would be easier to just give up the fight now, and they could die together in this cold empty sea. No. Harry pushes those thoughts from his mind. No. They can’t die. Not after everything they’ve been through, not after the decision he made tonight. No. 

After swimming for what feels like hours, he looks behind them, and he thinks he can make out the shoreline in the darkness. It’s not that far away, but his limbs are tired, the energy feeling as though it is draining out of him with each crash of a wave that hits their bodies. Louis’ body feels like a dead weight, but Harry refuses to leave him. If they die, then they will die together which Harry has strangely come to terms with. Louis will either be his death or his salvation, and he thinks a part of him has always known that. 

Harry sighs in relief when he feels solid land under his feet, the sand slippery. He pushes Louis' body in front of him, putting one arm behind his back and the other under the bend of his knee for support. His legs feel like lead as he tries to stand, the water knocking him back a few times before he is able to gain steady footing. He cradles Louis’ convulsing body, somehow managing to carry him to shore, despite the fatigue flowing through his entire system. He collapses on the sand, but he doesn't have time to rest. Louis is still shaking, and Harry doesn't know if he is even breathing. His lips are blue, but that could just be from the shock of the cold water. Harry doesn’t know CPR. He has never been properly trained, so panic is threatening to choke him. 

“Louis. Please. Can you hear me? Please! Louis! Fucking wake up! Please. You… You can’t die! Please!” Harry begs, shaking Louis' shoulder, warm tears streaming down his face. He guesses they finally thawed. He pats Louis’ face, trying to find some sign of life. When Louis’s eyes still don’t open, Harry starts to cry on his chest. This can’t be happening. Not after everything they have been through tonight. He killed his fucking father. This can’t. No. Harry refuses to believe it. He can’t accept it. He can’t accept that they got this far, and Louis is gone now. No. 

“Louis please, wake up. Please. If you don’t wake up, I can’t tell you that I love you, too. I can’t tell you that you mean so much to me. I can’t tell you that you don’t fucking deserve to die. Your heart is so big, it needs to keep beating. Fuck. Louis please! Please! I’m begging! Wake up! I need you! I can’t do this without you. Please. Louis...” Harry chokes on Louis’ name, more tears springing to his eyes as he gently hits Louis’ chest, begging him to come back. He turns Louis over onto his side, remembering that’s what he learned in his swimming unit. He lays in front of him, crying into his chest and praying to a god he doesn't really believe in that Louis will somehow wake up. 

A cough. Harry hears a cough, then Louis’ chest is moving beneath his fingers. Harry jumps up quickly, watching with wide eyes as Louis’ body convulses, coughing up more salty water before each new breath. He is still shaking, his body resembling a cup of water in an earthquake, but he is moving at least. He sucks in air, coughing some more as he tries to sit up. Harry pats him on the back, unsure of what else to do. It doesn't feel real. Harry thinks he may be hallucinating. That he died, and he is in heaven. Louis is dead and so is he, but they are alive together in a heavenly realm. It’s the only explanation because Harry just knew he was dead. 

“Where are we? What happened?” Louis asks, voice wrecked from all of the coughing. Harry doesn't care, though. It’s Louis’ voice. Louis is talking to him. He’s not dreaming. Holy shit. Harry dives for him, wrapping his still trembling body in his arms and squeezing him so tightly, he hopes to somehow stop the shaking. Harry thinks he feels Louis’ fingers clutching his back, but he can’t be sure because his skin is so numb from the cold. He just needs to feel him, to convince himself that he’s actually alive. 

“I’m honestly not sure. I think the current pulled us downshore quite a bit… maybe a mile or two,” Harry answers into Louis’ shoulder. He leaves the explanation at that because he assumes Louis remembers how they ended up in the water. Does Louis remember anything else, though? Maybe he didn’t hear Harry’s confession right before he started coughing. Harry isn’t sure if he is happy about that or disappointed. 

“How did we get to shore?” Louis asks, and Harry lets him go, pulling back to look him in the eyes. 

“I... umm… I got us to shore. I thought you had drowned. You really scared me for a minute,” Harry responds, eyes cast down with the admission. If he had any body heat at all, he thinks he would be blushing. He doesn't know why he is embarrassed about it. His head is tilting up in the next moment, his skin so numb he didn’t even feel that Louis had touched him. Louis doesn’t say anything, just leans in to kiss Harry on the forehead. Harry is so cold he can barely feel the press of his lips, but it’s the gesture that counts. 

“We need to get somewhere warm or we're going to freeze to death,” Harry says through chattering teeth, the adrenaline from the near disaster beginning to wear off, replaced by his body’s natural response to the cold. He is shivering, and so is Louis. If they don’t warm up soon, they will both die of hyperthermia. They may not have drowned tonight, but hyperthermia is still a real thing, and Louis appears as though his body is seconds away from shutting down. His shivering is getting worse by the moment, each whistle of wind causing him to quake in front of Harry’s eyes. He is moving so quickly, he almost looks as if he is perfectly still. 

Louis just nods, probably not able to form words anymore. Harry slowly gets up, sand sticking to his clothes and skin. It’s hard. His muscles scream at him, but they must keep going. He helps Louis’ to his feet, quickly realizing that Louis will collapse if he lets him go, so Harry holds on to him as he begins leading them to the strip of town near the shore. It doesn't take them long, and Harry still has no idea where they are , but it’s clearly another sketchy part of town. The buildings are run down, and even the shadows in the street look menacing. 

“There,” Louis says, his voice barely above a whisper. Harry looks at him, and he nods to his right. Harry’s head snaps up, finding a building with a sign that reads ‘Sky Motel’, written in blue with clouds around it. The sign itself is tacky, looking as though it was made in the 80s, with bright colors and burned out light bulbs. The building itself looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since the sign was made, the outside a mustard yellow, most of the windows having thor curtains drawn. Harry almost objects, not wanting to stay here, but his entire body is numb. He can’t feel his fingers or toes, and he is starting to shake to the point that he can barely hold himself up, let alone Louis. 

“Okay,” Harry responds, nodding his head and leading them to what he hopes is the lobby. There is a flickering sign that says so, but he is honestly not sure. When they walk through the doors, warm air greets them, but it does nothing to offset the cold that is rushing through their veins. They walk up to the desk, the man behind it eyeing them suspiciously. Harry can’t blame him. They are both dripping wet, their hair and clothes stiff with frozen salty water molecules. 

“We would like to get a room,” Harry says to the man, trying to keep his voice even and his teeth from chattering. The man seems unfazed though, as if he has seen this a thousand times before, but he still has a hint of suspicion in his eyes. He clearly doesn't trust people, and Harry can’t blame him. Harry would probably tell someone like him and Louis to get out. Harry pleads with his eyes, silently begging the man to help them. 

“For an hour or for the night?” He finally asks, and it takes Harry a moment to understand the question. Do people really just rent a room for an hour? What do they do with just an hour? Oh! Eww. Harry would be disgusted, but they are desperate. They need to get out of these clothes and get warm. He glances over to Louis, finally getting a good look at him in the semi okayish lighting. He has drops of water clinging on his long eyelashes. His lips are blue and his normally golden skin has taken on a gray hue. Instead of exuding sunlight, he looks like a cloudy winter day, reflecting their dire situation. 

“A night, please,” Harry responds, realizing he doesn't have a wallet. He looks at Louis, who is slowly reaching into his own back pocket. The man watches him, his hand disappearing behind the desk. With shaking fingers, Louis pulls out his wallet, opening it up, and the man seems to relax. The next moment he lays three soaking wet 100 dollar bills on the counter. 

“If anyone asks, we were never here. You’ll have three more when we leave. Got it?” Louis asks, his voice strong despite his trembling lips, as he hands his wallet to Harry. The man nods once, giving them a keycard a moment later, not even asking for a name or a credit card. That’s probably why Louis chose this place instead of something nicer. He knew places like this would be more willing to let them stay without putting them in the system. Louis is a genius. 

The man points in the direction of their room, and Harry takes the card, the room number ‘128’ written on it with shaky penmanship. He can barely feel it between his fingers, and forces himself to hold it tight because if it slipped, he wouldn’t even notice. Thankfully their room isn’t very far away, and he is able to open the door with little issue. Louis’ has begun shaking violently again, his frail body giving away to the cold finally. His eyes are drooping, and Harry can feel himself start to panic. 

As soon as they are in the room, Harry leaves Louis to make sure the curtains are closed, the ugly beige casement fabric stiff against Harry’s skin. He turns around, not seeing Louis immediately. He looks down, finding the small man on the floor, as if his legs have given out. Harry gets a flashback to that night in the shower, finding Louis in a similar position except this time he isn’t crying. No. He is shivering, his whole body trembling. 

Harry quickly rushes over to him, sitting him up, but Louis’ eyes have closed. A bolt of fear rushes through Harry’s system. His pulse is there, but it’s slow. Louis’ body is small, and he has very little fat to combat the cold. Harry doesn't have a whole lot of fat either, but he does have a lot of muscle, and he is just bigger than Louis. Harry doesn't lose body heat as quickly, so it makes sense for him to not be as affected, even though his skin is numb and his own body is shaking too. 

“Wake up baby,” Harry says, gently smacking Louis’ face. Harry sees the blue of Louis’ eyes for a split second, hidden beneath droopy eyelids. His breathing has slowed, and Harry can barely detect his chest moving up and down. Fuck. They are running out of time. He doesn't know if he can save him again. He feels like his luck is running out, but he has to try. 

“‘M sleepy, Hazzy. Tired. Gonna go to sleep, okay?” Louis responds, his words slurred, not able to keep his eyes open. Fuck. Harry doesn't know what will happen if Louis goes to sleep, but he doesn't think it will be good. It can't be good. What if Louis goes to sleep and never wakes up? Fuck. No. Harry cannot even entertain the possibility. 

“No baby. Don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake a little bit longer, okay? I promise you can go to sleep after you get warmed up.” Harry picks Louis up, taking them into the small bathroom. Harry turns the shower water, turning the dial so the water will be lukewarm, then he starts undressing them, beginning with Louis. His clothes are stiff, almost frozen to his body, but Harry splashes some warm water on them from the sink, loseningthem up enough to remove them from Louis’ body. His skin is still gray, but stained from Harry’s paint, the scars on his torso standing out in stark contrast to the faded colors. Harry holds on to him with one hand as he begins undressing himself with the other. He pushes the suspenders off his shoulders and his pants down to his ankles, stepping out of his wet shoes a moment later. 

He shoves his hand under the water to test it and his fingers instantly begin tingling, pain shooting through the digits. Even thought it isn’t scalding hot, it is going to fucking hurt, but he has to do it. He has to get their internal body temperatures back up, or they will die. He briefly thinks about calling an ambulance with the hotel phone, but he knows that is a bad idea. The first place Simon and his men will check is the hospitals, and they probably can’t do much more than what Harry is going to do. 

“Come on, baby. Let's get you warmed up. It’s gonna hurt. I’m sorry, but we need to get you warm,” Harry murmurs into Louis’ ear, then kisses his temple. Louis doesn't respond, and Harry tries not to panic. His body is completely limp now, his eyes closed. Harry presses his ear against Louis’ chest, hearing a very faint heartbeat. That doesn’t give him any sense of relief, though. No. It scares him even more. Harry knows what Louis’ heartbeat is supposed to sound like. It speeds up when he is about to come and slows down as it helps Harry drift off to sleep, but it has always been strong and steady. It has always been there. 

Harry picks Louis up again, his body completely slack in Harry’s arms. He still feels light as a feather as Harry carefully steps into the shower, under the hot water. His skin instantly starts stinging, pinpricks of pain firing off from every nerve ending of his body, seeming to come back to life. It feels like his whole body is both frozen and on fire, tiny serrated knives penetrating every single pore of his skin. It hurts, and Harry resists the urge to pull away. He tries to control his breathing, telling himself that it will get better the longer he is under the water. He knows it isn’t even that hot. It could be much hotter, but it feels like fire. 

Harry grits his teeth trying not to cry out, then Louis’ scream of pain echoes off the walls a moment later. He is almost relieved to hear it, as horrible as that makes him feel. He shouldn’t be happy that Louis is in pain, but at least it’s a sign of life. He sits down in the tub, cradling Louis between his long legs. The space is very small, but he makes it work. Louis begins writhing, trying to get away from the warm water. Harry grabs him, holding him firmly against his chest, trying to ignore the sensation of blood rushing back to his cold limbs. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. I know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon,” Harry comforts, holding Louis as close as he can. He has been slowly increasing the temperature, using his foot to turn the knob. Harry is beginning to feel sensation in his digits, his fingers gliding down Louis’ skin then back again. He can actually feel the slippery, soft surface beneath them. He is happy to note that some of his color has returned, the hot water making his skin bright pink, and Harry tells himself that it’s a sign of life. He feels completely out of his element. He has no formal training in first aid and has absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. He hopes he is doing the right thing, and that it is enough. 

They lay like that until the water starts to cool, and Harry decides it is doing more harm that good. Louis still hasn’t said anything, but he is no longer trembling. His skin is still cold to the touch, but Harry hopes that maybe getting under a blanket will help. Harry has gotten all of the feeling back in his body, the painful pins and needles sensation fading. He stands and turns the water off. Louis whimpers when he moves, his eyes finally opening. 

“Louis, baby, are you awake?” Harry asks, getting out of the tub, hot steam floating around him. He kneels down, the surface of the tile floor unforgiving on his knees. He ignores it, placing one arm around Louis’ back and the other in the bend of his knees, lifting him easily. He no longer feels lifeless in Harry’s arms, and his heartbeat has become stronger and more steady. Harry sighs in relief. 

“Yeah. I- I think I’m okay. I’m just exhausted,” Louis responds, his voice rough in Harry’s ear. His throat is probably still burning from inhaling so much water then coughing it back up, but at least is speaking. Fuck. Harry was worried he would never hear him speak again, and he could cry at the very sound of his voice. He slowly lowers Louis’ bare feet to the floor, keeping a grip on him until he is steady. Harry keeps an eye on him as he grabs a towel that feels like sandpaper against his skin, nowhere near as soft as the towels Harry is used to. It’s also very small, but it will have to work. He begins very gently wiping it over Louis’ body. 

“Me too. Once we’re dry, we can go to bed. It doesn't look all that great, and we may catch a venereal disease, but at least it will be warm,” Harry jokes, running the towel over Louis’ head a few times. He smiles when he hears the soft chime of Louis’ laughter bounce off of the walls of the tiny bathroom. Once Louis’ body is rid of every single drop of water that could lower his temperature, Harry begins running another towel over his own, his skin feeling raw under the harsh fabric. 

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, looking at Harry, his expression confused as he watches Harry reaching for what he hopes is a hair dryer that is hanging on the wall. It’s an off white color, and Harry wonders if it was made that way or if it’s just permanently stained. He pushes the thought from his mind, pulling it out of the plastic holder that is attached to the wall. 

“You aren’t going to bed with wet hair,” Harry says, and Louis rolls his eyes however he doesn't object when Harry turns the hair dryer on. It feels like it is barely blowing any air, and it’s so loud it’s drowning out all of the other sounds from outside the room. It takes about ten minutes for Louis’ hair to be completely dry, then he turns it to himself. He normally hates drying his curls. It makes them frizzy, but he knows it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave it wet after everything they just went through. He shuts the hair dryer off and quiet takes over the small space.

“Thank you for saving my life, Harry. You didn’t have to. I was ready to die, but… yeah… um thank you.” Louis’ voice is small and soft, but he thinks Louis is talking about more than just pulling him out of the ocean and not letting him die of the resulting hypothermia. He looks down from where he was about to hang the hair dryer back up. Louis’ eyes are wide and blue, his cheeks tinted red as he looks up at Harry. He is playing with his fingers, as if he’s nervous. Harry knows Louis is referring to his dad as well, and the fact that Harry had shot him. 

“I could never let you die, Louis,” Harry responds, pushing the thought of his dad from his mind once more. He just can’t think about that right now. He needs to make sure that Louis is okay. He looks a lot better. He’s no longer shivering uncontrollably and his skin tone has almost returned to normal. Harry is still on edge though, having been in far too many life or death situations over the past few hours. He doesn't say anything, just takes Louis’ hand and leads him out of the bathroom. 

Now that he is no longer panicked, he can actually look at the room. It’s small and dirty, the bedding the same beige color as the curtains. He can’t tell exactly what size the bed is because it looks too small to be a king but just a tiny bit too big to be a queen. It has the comforter tucked into the corners, flat pillows at the head. There is a small table on either side, a lamp on one that Harry had turned on earlier. There is no TV or desk, just a small wardrobe off to the side. They don’t have any clothes to hang in it, though. 

“Go ahead, get in. I’ll be back in a second. I just want to hang our clothes. Hopefully they will dry tonight, since we don’t have anything else to wear,” Harry says, helping Louis between the sheets, and kissing him on the forehead. He loves that Louis is allowing him to take care of him. He knows that Louis doesn’t really like this kind of attention, but he needs it right now. Harry will gladly give him this, plus it gives Harry something else to focus on. He doesn't want to think right now. 

“I’ll call Kiki in the morning. She has everything we will need,” Louis responds, his words slurred again, but Harry doesn't think he is in danger of dying. He is probably just exhausted, and so is Harry. The bed is beginning to look inviting instead of sketchy. Harry makes quick work of draping their clothes over the shower rod, then walks over to the heater along the wall, making sure it is turned up. He gets into bed behind Louis a moment later, pulling him close. 

“Good night, Lou. Get some sleep,” Harry says, running his hand up and down Louis’ arm. His skin is still cool to the touch, but Harry fully plans on giving him every iota of body heat he has. Harry would set himself on fire if it meant keeping Louis warm. He reaches around him, turning the lamp off, plunging the room in darkness. 

“Night, Harry,” Louis mumbles, and Harry can tell he is almost asleep already. Harry’s mind is still racing though, even though his body is exhausted. A lot has happened in the span of a few hours. Harry went from being prepared to die to fighting with everything he had in him for them both to survive. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that they still aren’t safe. Simon is going to be looking for them. His father is… No. His father is dead. 

Harry has been trying his best not to think about that, but now the memory is flooding back. His dad’s gun trained on Louis’ head, his finger on the trigger. Harry begged him not to do it, but he kept it there. He had every intention of firing it. All Harry could see was Louis dying along with the countless children his dad has sold into sex trafficking. All he could see was a monster, so Harry made a decision. He pulled his own trigger to save Louis, but now he feels as though he is choking on guilt. 

__________

**_Monday morning…._ **

“I wonder what Simon wants with a thirteen year old girl named Penelope,” Ashton says, as soon as they are far enough away from Simon’s office to avoid being heard. He doesn't even say the words loudly, but they grate against Luke’s skin, his head pounding to the cadence of Ashton's voice. He feels like roadkill. No. Worse than roadkill. He feels like he fell off the top of the Empire State Building, splattering on the pavement below only to be scraped off then fed to a dragon. The dragon then spat him out, and now the roadkill is making fun of him. 

“I dunno. He said he wanted to hold her for ransom since Harry’s didn't work out,” Luke responds, shrugging his shoulders as they walk. He licks his lips, his mouth feeling dry and his stomach churning. He feels like he is going to throw up again. He wanted to do another bump before they left for their meeting this morning however he didn’t have a chance, and now he is suffering the consequences. 

“Do you really think that’s it?” Ashton asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it makes Luke’s head throb. He should eat or drink something, but nothing seems appetizing at the current moment. He feels exhausted, and all he wants to do is go back to bed or maybe do a line. Neither are options right now because they have been sent on a mission. Simon and his impeccable fucking timing. 

“I don’t know. I don’t really question him, though. He pays our bills, so why question his motives? I doubt he’s going to kill her. She’s just a little girl. Like he said, she has rich parents, and he wants to ransom her,” Luke answers, already annoyed by Ashton’s constant questions. He is the most inquisitive person Luke knows. He can almost watch his brain as it works, but right now, Luke isn’t in the mood for it. He’s fucking tired. 

Ashton is quiet after that, thank God. Luke’s head can’t take any more noise than absolutely necessary. He is already wearing sunglasses, trying to shield his sensitive eyes from any amount of light they may come across. They leave the building, walking to the non descript black van they always use. Luke gets in, shutting the door gently behind him, Ashton doing the same. Luke watches with curious eyes as Ashton begins digging around in the front pocket of his black jeans. 

“Here. I brought you some pain meds. Figured you would need them. We will stop and get some coffee on the way. Let me see the address,” Ashton says quietly, placing two white oblong pills into Luke’s hand. Luke smiles in thanks, handing him the piece of paper that Simon gave him with Penelope’s address written on it. Ashton opens it, his brows creasing together almost instantly. 

“What?” Luke questions, laying his head back against the headrest and shutting his eyes for a split second. He opens them again, looking at Ashton, forcing his eyes to bring the other man back in focus. He looks good today, even though he is probably hung over as hell just like Luke. Ashton always looks good though, and all he did was drink. It’s Luke’s fault. He’s the one that decided to do a bunch of coke, but he has zero regrets. He wishes he could do more now. Maybe then he would be able to concentrate. 

“This is in the east end. Are there even any wealthy neighborhoods in the east end?” Ashton asks, looking up from the paper. He hands it back to Luke, sticking the key in the ignition and starting the van a moment later. It’s not as cold as it has been, so they don’t need to wait for the windshield to defrost.

“That is odd, but she could be visiting a friend or something. I don’t know. Do you not believe him?” Luke snaps, automatically feeling defensive. He just doesn't want to piss Simon off even more. The meeting was tense, to say the least. Simon seemed furious about the recent events, so pissing him off just seems counterintuitive. He watches Ashton put the van into drive, expertly backing out of the parking spot. He looks hot when he drives; Luke would suck his dick if he wasn’t afraid of throwing up. 

“I just think it’s weird. It doesn’t add up, babe,” Ashton responds, his voice gentle despite the fact that Luke just snapped at him. Ashton is always so controlled, and Luke kind of envies that. He also sometimes does everything he can to get Ashton to lose control. It rarely happens, but for some reason it makes Luke feel less crazy for continuously spiraling. Ashton hardly ever raises his voice, and sometimes it just feels like he lacks any emotion whatsoever. Some days are worse than others, though. 

“Oh well. He’s our boss,” Luke points out, which is very true. Simon is their boss. If they don’t have Simon then they don’t get paid. They can’t take on Simon; that would pretty much be suicide. He could do much worse, and Luke doesn’t even want to think about what that could entail. 

“Do you really think Louis is dead?” Ashton asks, looking both ways before pulling out onto the street. Fuck. He knew Ashton was going to bring it up. After they left the bathroom at the bar, they went back to Ashton’s house. Luke didn’t stay the whole night. He never does. It’s like an unspoken rule between them. They didn’t really talk about it, and Ashton didn’t cry anymore. Luke did though, and Ashton comforted him. He may have hated Louis somedays, but he wasn’t a bad person. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good leader, and a good friend. Luke’s heart also hurts for Ashton. He knows they were close, and he can’t imagine how upset Ashton actually is even though he refuses to show it. 

“Yeah. I mean. I don’t think he’s lying when he says they jumped from a cliff into the freezing ocean. They would have had to be very strong swimmers or lucky as hell to have survived that,” Luke reasons, a stabbing sensation going through his heart with the statement. He tries to ignore the fact that Louis is dead. It helps him pretend everything is normal, and they are just going on any other job without him. Everything isn’t normal, though. Very far from it. 

“Yeah. Lou wasn’t a great swimmer, but we don’t know about Harry. He could have had lessons or something. Simon said that he didn’t see them resurface, but how could he when it was so dark? They didn’t find them in a hospital or any of the hotels that they checked, so I guess he’s just assuming.” Ashton is tapping the steering wheel with long fingers, his dark brows creased together in thought. Luke wants to kiss away his worry, but that would be impossible. Their jobs are full of worry and stress, but most jobs are. 

“I would do a location trace on his phone, but if it went into the ocean with him, it would be useless. If he’s alive, I’m sure we will hear from him sooner or later. I just… I don’t know if he is, babe,” Luke tells him, feeling the need to say it. He reaches over, grabbing Ashton’s hand in his own, the sound of his tapping fingers immediately ceasing. Even though Luke is taller, Ashton has larger hands. Luke loves holding hands with him, even though they don’t do it very often. They aren’t that kind of couple, or really a couple at all. However, Ashton needs comfort, and Luke can do that.

They sit in silence for a few long moments, the sound of tires on the pavement and honking horns from commuters filling up the space in the vehicle. Luke opens his mouth at least seven point three times to say something, but nothing comes out therefore he just shuts it again. He just doesn't know what to say. Ashton isn’t big on being comforted, so he just hopes holding his hand is enough. “Have you heard from Niall?” Ashton asks suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“Nope. I figured he would resurface after hiding Liam, but I haven’t heard from him,” Luke responds, feeling guilty for completely forgetting about their friend. He’s sure he is okay, though. Niall is scrappy. He’s smart and can find his way out of most situations. He probably decided to stay with Liam to get him acclimated. It’s weird that Simon didn’t bring him up at all during the meeting, though. Niall is normally involved in these sorts of operations. 

“Do you think he knows? Should we call him? Louis was his best friend. He’s gonna be crushed,” Ashton says, his bottom lip trembling just enough for Luke to know he is probably holding back tears. No one else would have noticed the subtle tell, though. Luke grips his hand tighter, wishing he could do more. Or wishing maybe Ashton would just cry, get it out. Other than the few tears he had shed the previous night, he hasn’t cried at all. It would probably help him if he did. Luke knows he feels better after he cries, so why wouldn’t Ashton? 

“We can call him after we get done with this. It shouldn’t take us too long. I figured Simon had called him after you though,” Luke assures, hoping that the idea will give Ashton a sense of certainty. He knows Ashton likes control, so it must be incredibly hard for him right now since everything seems to be falling in around them. He doesn't even understand why Ashton likes him so much. Luke is one huge chaotic mess of a human. They really are a dichotomy. 

“He might have. He knows that Niall is loyal to Louis, though. He probably already has a hit out on him,” Ashton points out, and shit. Luke didn’t think of that, but it makes perfect sense. Louis made a direct move against Simon, so it would be safe for Simon to assume that Niall is against him as well. 

“Fuck. This whole situation is so fucked. We will definitely call Ni after this. It will be fine. Try not to worry. We can figure it out,” Luke voices the words in his head. He wants to scream though. Why did Louis have to go and fall for his prisoner? That’s like the first rule of imprisonment. But Louis did, and they jumped from a cliff together in some fucked up, poetic notion. If they did somehow manage to make it out alive, it is nice to know that Louis probably won’t go for Ashton anymore, even though he did flirt with him right in front of Harry. 

The truth is, though, that they are probably dead. Luke isn’t going to lie. He knows it makes him a horrible person, and he feels incredibly guilty for thinking it, but Louis being dead also solves the jealousy issue. On one hand, a dead man can’t pursue Ashton, but on the other, it means that Ashton will be sad. Luke hates it when Ashton is sad, even though he is the cause of his sadness sometimes. 

“I’m not worried about myself making it out. I don’t give a fuck about myself. I’m worried about Louis, and Niall and you,” Ashton says glancing at Luke with a meaningful expression. The only problem is, Luke doesn’t exactly know what it means. His eyes are bright in the morning light that's filtering through the windshield, almost green. He gives Luke a half smile, the dimple on his left cheek making an appearance. Luke resists the urge to poke it. He would live in that dimple if he fucking could. 

After that, the car is silent for a while. Ashton continues to hold Luke's hand, squeezing it every so often. Luke pretends he’s not hung over as fuck, and that the movement of the car isn’t giving him motion sickness. They stop for some coffee and breakfast when they are halfway there. The small meal seems unappetizing, his stomach churning at the smell, but Ashton convinces him to eat. After the first few bites, it’s tolerable, and he starts feeling a tiny bit better with something else in his system. 

They make small talk until they pull up to the street that was written on the paper. It’s definitely a run down part of town, and Ashton’s question is nagging in the back of Luke’s head. Why would a rich kid be here? They drive slowly down the street, looking at house numbers as they go. Suddenly, the van stops. Luke looks over at Ashton in alarm. 

“Wait… is that her?” Ashton asks, pointing to a young girl walking alone at the end of the block. Luke reaches for their binoculars in the glove compartment to get a closer look at her. She has brown hair and blue eyes. It looks like she has some headphones in, listening to music as she walks to her destination. She isn’t paying attention, her worn out VANS echoing quietly on the sidewalk below her feet. Luke pulls out the picture that Simon gave him, looking from it to her in comparison. “Let me see the picture.” 

At Ashton's request, Luke hands over the photograph and binoculars. Luke leans over so they can both look at it and study her, even though Luke can’t make out many identifying features yet. “It looks like her,” Luke decides after looking between her and the picture at least seventeen times. Unless she has a twin roaming around somewhere, this is definitely their girl. She is still at the end of the block, and not paying any attention to the world around her. 

“Okay. I’m gonna park right here so you can get in the back. When you feel the van stop again, open the door and grab her, pull her inside. Tie her up and blindfold her for good measure,” Ashton plans, keeping his eyes trained on her. Luke looks around, but he doesn't see anyone that could be a witness. There could be someone looking out their window, but all the apartment curtains seem to be drawn. These kinds of areas tend to be tight lipped when police get involved, so it should be relatively simple. 

“Got it,” Luke responds, nodding his head. He gets out, going to the back of the van and sliding the door open. He gets in, shutting it but not closing it completely. He puts on the black ski mask to hide his identity, just to be safe in case someone did happen to see them. The smoother this is, the better. His heart is racing in anticipation as he feels the van begin to move, more adrenaline pumping through his veins with each inch the van moves up the street. When he feels the van come to a stop again, Luke opens the door. 

The girl has her mouth open to scream, but Luke quickly claps his hand over it, wrapping his arm around her waist. She feels like she weighs nothing as he pulls her into the van, shutting the door firmly behind him. He slaps the wall of the van that separates him from Ashton three times in succession, immediately feeling the van start to move again. 

The first thing he does is gag her, then puts a bag over her head. Next he ties up her arms, then her legs. He tries to ignore her cries, his heart breaking with every single sob she releases. He hates this part of his job. He tells himself that she is going to be okay. Simon isn’t going to actually hurt her. He just wants the money he lost when the ransom with Harry fell through. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Penelope. I promise. Try to calm down,” Luke tells her, helping her sit up. She doesn’t stay seated for very long, curling into a ball on the floor, more muffled sobs following shortly after. Luke doesn't know what to do, so he pats her on the back and tries to reassure her that he isn’t going to hurt her. The van ride back to headquarters feels like it takes centuries. When the van door opens from the outside, two of Simon’s other men are there to greet them. Ashton and Luke hand over the girl, saying their goodbyes. 

“That was rough,” Luke sighs, getting into the passenger side of Ashton’s car. He walked here this morning, but they are probably going to go back to Ashton’s place. It’s much nicer than his, and Luke may try to do a line of coke. His head is throbbing again, and his emotional state is ten seconds away from being wrecked after that experience. He hates hearing children cry, and he hates it even more when he is the reason they are crying. She will be okay though. Simon won’t hurt her. He feels like he has told himself that so much, it’s lost all meaning. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I should have let you drive,” Ashton responds, patting him on the leg. The drive to Ashton’s place is quick, and Luke sighs when he’s finally inside, sitting down on the couch. Ashton goes to get them something to drink as Luke gets out his cocaine, sitting it on the table. Ashton probably won’t mind, especially after the morning they’ve had. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton starts drinking. Luke’s phone begins to ring as he starts chopping up some powder. 

“Who’s that?” Ashton asks, sitting down on the couch beside Luke. 

“My mom.” Luke rolls his eyes, sitting his phone down on the table. It stops ringing, and Luke sags in relief, going back to the task at hand. A few seconds later, though, it starts up again. That’s odd. His mom usually just leaves a message. A bolt of fear shoots through Luke. 

“You should answer it, babe. Seems like it’s important,” Ashton says, his brows creased together in worry. Luke nods his head, sitting the blade beside the chunks he was breaking apart and picking his phone up from the table. He presses the answer button with a shaky finger, telling himself that he shouldn’t be worried. That he hasn’t spoken to his mom in a few days, and she is probably just concerned so she called twice to get his attention. 

“Hello,” he answers, but hears nothing for a few seconds. He almost hangs up, deciding that the line must have gone dead. Then he hears his mom breathing, her familiar voice a few moments later. 

“Luke? Oh thank God you answered. Luke I...” Her voice breaks, as if she can’t seem to finish her sentence. Panic shoots through Luke’s chest, freezing his limbs. Something’s wrong. He can hear it in her voice. His dad? Did something happen to his dad? Or maybe it’s his grandparents. They are older now. Fuck. He looks at Ashton in alarm, the other man seeming confused. He feels Ashton’s hand on his back a moment later, the warmth spreading to his heart. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Luke asks, and he can hear the tremor in his own voice. He barely got it out, a lump forming in his throat and the panic in his body clogging the syllables. He tries to take a deep breath. It could be nothing. She could be overreacting like she tends to do. Everyone could be fine, just injured or something. His mind is going through the one thousand and seventy nine scenarios that could have happened, each one running through his head like a reel in a horror movie. 

“Luke. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s Riley. He- he- he died.” His mom’s words cut off on a sob, and a chill runs down his spine. He feels like he’s going to puke. He begins shaking his head, looking at Ashton for reassurance. Ashton still looks confused, but he can tell Luke is upset. He feels Ashton squeeze his shoulder, mouthing ‘everything alright?’. Luke shakes his head, but he’s not sure if it's an answer or if he’s in denial of his mom’s claims. 

“You’re lying. Mom. Don’t lie to me,” Luke accuses, his voice rising with each word. She has to be lying. His brain just can’t comprehend her words. No. He refuses to accept them. No. His brother is alive. He’s alive, and healthy and happy. He’s probably balls deep in some girl, and he’s living his life. She has to be mistaken. This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

“Sweetie, no. I’m not lying. He’s dead. Your brother is gone. I know it’s hard to process, honey. They found him this morning. They- they think he had a heart attack at some point last night. They couldn't save him.” There is a begging tone to her voice that stands out among the thickness of emotion. Luke tries to swallow, but it’s caught in his burning throat. His eyes are beginning to well up, but he bites his lip, refusing to shed tears over a fucking lie. 

“Mom. He is 21 years old. How could he have a heart attack?” Luke asks, his brain not processing any of this. His brother wasn’t sick. There is no history of heart disease in their family. How is he supposed to believe that a healthy 21 year old man randomly had a heart attack? No. He can’t. No. That’s not how the world works. That’s not how his world works. It’s just not possible. 

“Luke, I think you know what could make a 21 year old boy have a heart attack,” his mom responds, throat clogged with tears as she chokes on the last word. Luke swallows. Wracking his brain for any possible explanation. Fuck. Fuck. No. She’s implying... No. It can’t be. His brother overdosed? No. Riley is careful. Riley doesn't do more than he can handle. He would never be so stupid to overdose. Luke begins shaking his head, anger rising in his system. 

“Stop lying Mom! Is this some kind of joke or some sick way to convince me to get clean? Riley’s not dead. He can’t be. I just saw him last night. I fucking talked to him. He was fine. This is so fucked up. Don’t lie!” Luke yells into the phone, and Ashton immediately pulls him into a hug. Their position is awkward, and it does nothing to make Luke feel better. Riley was just there last night. He was hanging out like normal. A girl on each arm and making jokes. He was alive. How could he be dead? It’s not possible. He just saw him. 

“I’m not lying Luke. I swear. I wouldn’t do that. He’s dead, Luke. I’m so sorry, but he’s dead. I wish he wasn’t. I- I-... God I wish he wasn’t.” She’s crying again, and now Luke is, too. His brother is dead. She’s right. She would never lie about something as serious as this. His vibrant happy brother is gone, snuffed from the world and no one knew for hours. He was alone for hours. Fuck. No. 

“Mom. I have to go. I have to- Fuck. I have to go-” Luke’s words break off on a sob, Ashton squeezing him hard. Luke bends down, tears falling onto the table, soaking into the cocaine that he had left there. His drugs. She said Riley died of an OD. Fuck. This is Luke’s fault. It’s all his fucking fault. He begins to cry harder, attempting to muffle his sobs with his hand, so that his mom doesn’t hear. 

“Okay. We are going to have his viewing tomorrow, and his funeral the day after. Please come. I know it will be hard, but your family needs you,” she tells him, but Luke barely hears it. He doesn't comprehend what she is saying, and almost gives the phone to Ashton who is in a better state of mind to pay attention. He thinks it was something about the funeral. No. They can’t be talking about funerals already. For his fucking little brother. No. 

“Okay,” Luke responds because it’s the only word he can manage to get out of his lungs. The only one that he is able to form in the absence of breath. He doesn't even know if his response made sense. All he can see are memories of his brother. Beating the shit out of him when he stole Luke's favorite band t-shirt and got ink on it. The first party Luke took him to when Riley was only sixteen. All the shit they used to get into just to piss their mother off. He won’t make any more memories with him, though. Riley is gone. 

“Okay. I love you,” she says, and Luke doesn’t even respond. He hands Ashton the phone because he can’t see the call end button through his tears. He thinks he hears Ashton speaking for a few moments, probably talking to his mom to get more information since he clearly isn’t going to be able to get it out of Luke. He doesn't even know his own name right now. His brain hurts. His body aches. His heart feels like it has stopped beating. He knows he is crying, but at the same time he is in so much pain he wishes he was bleeding. 

He didn’t hear Ashton hang up the phone, but he supposes he did because Ashton is pulling his body to him as he leans back on the couch. Luke goes easily, laying down on Ashton’s strong chest a moment later. Luke curls himself into a tight ball, wanting to become as small as he feels as he sobs, clutching Ashton’s shirt like a lifeline, more thoughts of denial racing through his head. It just can’t be true, but it is. Gone. His brother is gone, and it’s his fault. It's all his fucking fault. He thinks he says some of it out loud, but can’t be sure. Ashton just pets his hair and whispers soothing words in his ear, but Luke barely feels or hears it at all. Riley is dead, and Luke is to blame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE YOU MADE IT... THAT WASN'T SO BAD


	3. Headspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry plan their next move, and Ashton is worried about Luke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH I don't wanna give too much away, but this chapter is a fun one. Especially the end. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_Your voice gets a little loud  
When there's nothing to talk about  
You shout, dear  
And I'll find my lights fading out  
More and more by the hour  
It gets dark in here- Lewis Capaldi _

**_At the same time Monday morning…._ **

Louis wakes up the next morning to nothing at all familiar. He has no idea where he is or what happened, but his throat feels like it was occupied by a giant dick last night, fucking it until it was raw. He tries to move, but his entire body is sore, as if he spent the day before working out. His heart starts beating rapidly, memories from last night flashing through his mind. The cold sea water burned his throat when he swallowed it. Incredible coldness that made him feel hot all over. Strong hands on his body, as he floated through the inky darkness of space and time. 

He remembers flying or falling or maybe both, Harry’s hand in his until the freezing water broke them apart. Before that, they were standing on the edge of a cliff, running from Simon and Harry’s dad. Wait. Not Harry’s dad. Selley. Selley is Harry’s dad, and Harry has killed him. Fuck. The memories are becoming more vibraint with each passing second. He can almost feel the pain of the warm water on his too cold skin last night, like being stabbed over and over again by a hot knife. Louis feels his body subtly rocking and doesn’t understand why, so he forces his eyes open, finding Harry curled up beside him. 

“Harry,” Louis says, the word painful in his raw throat. He swallows, but it feels like his saliva is made of shards of glass. Harry doesn’t react to the sound of Louis’ voice. Louis knows he’s awake. His back is moving, and Louis can’t tell if he’s crying or just rocking back and forth. He looks so tiny, which Louis didn’t think would be possible given that Harry is so big, almost larger than life sometimes. Either way, Louis is worried, his heart beginning to race in his chest. 

“Harry, Princess, are you okay?” Louis asks, talking becoming a bit easier with each word that passes through the grit of sand clogging his throat. When Harry doesn’t answer again, Louis places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him. He turns over slowly, but his eyes are cast down. Louis can see his cheeks are wet with tears, and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry. I just- I can’t.” Harry's words come out choppy, as if he is having trouble breathing. Even though Louis’ body protests, he sits up immediately. He looks around the room, finding it mostly shrouded in shadows. The curtains are drawn, but he can see the sun peaking in around them. The clock on the nightstand reads 8:00 am in dull red. Harry is still laying down, now curling in on himself, covering his face with his large ringed hands. Louis is surprised they didn’t come off in the water last night. 

“Princess. Please. Talk to me,” Louis begs, placing a hand on Harry’s trembling shoulder. Louis has never seen Harry like this. Even when they kidnapped him and had him in a holding cell, he never cried. He has a feeling he knows what’s wrong, and guilt churns his empty stomach. This is because of him. He just knows it. 

“Everything is wrong,” Harry says, his words barely above a whisper. Louis grabs his arm, pulling him up into a sitting position. He then pulls him into his lap, gripping Harry’s thigh with one hand, and wrapping the other securely around his torso. Harry goes easily, burying his face into the crook of Louis’s neck. Louis can feel the wetness of his tears, a drop making its way onto his bare chest. Louis doesn't move to wipe it away. Instead, he leaves it, hoping his body can somehow absorb all of Harry’s tears, pain and sorrow. 

“I know, love, but I promise we will get out of this,” Louis responds, already running a new plan through his head. Louis isn’t going to lie. Last night was the most scared he has ever been. It was probably the closest he has ever come to dying, and he is so thankful for Harry who has now saved his life on more than one occasion. Three to be exact. 

“How? We have a fucking mafia boss chasing us who wants nothing more than our heads on a stick. We can’t go back to your place. We can’t go to Ashton and Luke because Simon would find us. We have no way of contacting Niall or Liam. They are probably already gone. We can’t contact my family because…” Harry’s panicked words choke off on a sob, his fingers digging into Louis’ shoulder. Louis squeezes him, knowing exactly what Harry was going to say. He swallows around the lump in his throat. Harry takes a deep breath, “because I killed my dad.” 

The silence that follows the statement feels like it is slowly crushing Louis under its weight. He can’t breathe, the guilt suffocating him. Louis remembers that moment so clearly, he thinks it will be seared into his brain forever. Harry killed his father because Des Styles aka Selley was seconds away from killing Louis. Harry was faced with the ultimate choice, and he chose Louis. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Louis had begged for him not to do it. Harry’s hands weren’t supposed to be soiled by blood, especially the blood of his own father. 

“Harry. I- I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want you to kill him. You have to believe me. I swear. I didn’t-” Louis starts, his voice breaking because he doesn't know what else to say. Harry is still clinging to him even though he should hate him with everything he has in him. Louis kidnaped him. It is Louis’ fault that he was put in a position where he felt that it was necessary to kill his own father. Everything is Louis’ fault, and Harry should hate him. He deserves Harry’s hate. 

“Did you know?” Harry asks suddenly, whipping his head up, his tear stained face finally in Louis’ eyeline. Shatters. Louis’ heart shatters at the sight. Harry has been through so much, and Louis has finally pushed him past his breaking point. His green eyes are dark and shiny, as if a forest is witnessing a thunderstorm. Louis is confused by the question, allowing it to mar his features. Harry opens his mouth, explaining further, “Did you know that Selley was my dad?” 

“No. No. I didn’t. I had no idea. I promise. I was so shocked when you called him dad. I swear Harry. I didn’t know. I’m one of the few people in the organization who knows what Selley looked like. He tends to keep a low profile. Luke and Ashton didn’t know, which is why they weren’t able to put the pieces together when they were running your background info. If I had known Harry, I would have told you. I swear. Please. Believe me,” Louis rambles, panic suddenly rampaging through his body, forcing his heart to begin beating wildly. Harry is looking into Louis' eyes, as if he can see into his soul. Louis sincerely hopes he can because he has nothing to hide from him anymore. 

“I believe you,” Harry says after a moment, and Louis sighs in relief. Thank fuck. He just couldn’t handle the idea of Harry thinking he is a liar after everything. Louis is a lot of things, but he has never lied to Harry. “But I killed him. I killed my father. How do I get past that? I’m not a good person. I can’t be if I did that. I just- I couldn't…” Harry’s breathing becomes erratic again, his nostrils flaring as more tears stream down his face. 

“I know, love. I promise you’re still a good person, though. You’re better than he was,” Louis comforts, even though he doesn't know if it’s the right thing to say. Talking badly of his deceased father only hours after Harry killed him probably isn’t at the top of the list of the right things to say in this situation, but he is pretty sure this is unprecedented. There is nothing good he can say. He just wishes it was him. He wishes Harry had let Selley kill him so Harry wouldn’t have to go through this crushing guilt. The questioning of his very morals. 

“That’s all I could think about, Louis. All I could see was him trying to drug your drink when you were barely a teenager. You were fourteen. I was at home, in my mansion, surrounded by everything I wanted. I was twelve, and had no idea he was doing such things. All I could think of were the countless children he had hurt while hugging my sister and I with the same hands. He was going to kill you Louis! I-I didn’t have a choice. I swear. I didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill you, and he’s hurt so many others and… and… I- I had to stop him.” Harry words are coming out choppy, as if he is trying to convince Louis as much as he is himself. He sounds like he is seconds away from a panic attack. 

“Shh. Shh. I know, Princess. You did stop him,” Louis soothes, struggling with the right words to say. He doesn't think he is all that great at comforting people. He comes from a world where it just doesn't happen. He doesn't know what to say to make this easier for Harry, but he has to say _something._ “He’s hurt a lot of people. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say your father was a saint. I think he deserved what you did, but that doesn't make this any easier on you. I didn’t want you to be the one to do it. I didn’t want you to have any blood on your hands.”

“How do you do it?” Harry asks, and Louis is confused again. He is two seconds away from asking ‘do what’ when Harry begins speaking again. “How do you like… how do you kill people and live with yourself? I’m not asking this to sound like an asshole or to make you feel guilty for the people you’ve killed. I’m asking because I want to understand. I don’t feel like a good person right now. I feel like I’ve betrayed myself in some way. I don’t even know who I am anymore; I didn’t think I would ever be capable of doing such a thing. I just want to understand how I can live with myself.” 

Louis holds his breath with Harry’s explanation, not releasing it when he’s finished. Harry sniffles, wiping his eyes, but Louis can see more tears welling in them. He wishes he could rewind the clock, and kill Selley himself. He can’t imagine how difficult this must be for Harry. Selley was his dad. It’s like Louis killing Simon. Louis knows he could kill Simon, but he also knows a part of him would feel terrible about doing it. He thinks about Harry’s question, but he doesn't feel like he has a good answer. 

“I don’t really know. I wish I had a better answer than that, but I don’t. I just… I kind of got used to it. I know you think there is no justification for killing people, you’ve said as much, but I disagree. I think there is a justification for it. There are people in this world that are so evil, they aren’t redeemable in any way. There is nothing you can do to change those kinds of people. All you can do is try to stop them, and sometimes the only way to do that is with death,” Louis tries to explain, but he doesn't think he has made much sense. 

“Do you think there is justification for me killing my dad?” Harry asks, and, in the past, Louis would have felt like this wasa trap. Now, though, he doesn't think so. The question seems genuine, like all of his others. Harry’s eyes are pleading, as if he just wants to understand. Louis swallows. 

“Yes. Selley was a horrible man. He would have continued to do unspeakable things for money if you hadn’t stopped him. I know he was your dad, Harry, and you didn’t see him the way I did. Our perceptions of him are totally different, but I knew him to be a bad person. He was going to kill me, but then again, that was fine by me. I wish you would have let him kill me, Haz. Then you wouldn’t be going through this,” Louis tells him, casting his eyes down as the truth leaves his lips. 

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be, but I would be going through something way worse. Losing you. Fuck Louis, I just couldn’t handle that. I refused to accept it. I went into it thinking I would do everything in my power to save you. You didn’t deserve to die. It was in my power to save you, so I did. There was no other choice. It was either you or him, and I chose you. I know you. I felt like I didn’t know him anymore. He turned into a monster in front of my eyes, so I chose you and I would do it again. In any universe, no matter how it played out, I would always choose you,” 

Louis isn’t sure what to say to that. No one has ever really chosen him, not even his mom when his dad kicked him out. Louis fights the tears threatening to escape his eyes. He takes Harry’s hand, wanting to sound as sincere as possible, “Thank you for choosing me. I know I said in the beginning that I wanted you to be faced with this choice, but now that it happened, I wish I could take it back. I wish you never had the choice. I wish you would have never had to understand my point of view.” 

“I do understand your point of view now, but I just- I don’t know how to handle the guilt. I feel so guilty for killing him even though I know I didn’t have a choice. I feel like I don’t know who I am because of the choice I made. How do I get past it? I feel like it’s eating me alive,” Harry confesses, his voice sad. Louis takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what he is about to say. 

“You either have to accept that and move on or dwell on it and let it destroy you.” It’s a harsh truth, but it’s the only way to look at it. What’s done is done. There is no other way around it. As much as he wishes, he can’t turn back time. He can’t go back and never kidnap Harry. The world doesn’t work that way, so they just have to deal with the present moment. 

“How are we going to get out of this Louis? We are in a shitty hotel with no money, no cell phone, and nobody to help us,” Harry asks, changing the subject. Louis is glad that he has calmed down some, but doesn't know if Harry has fully accepted the fact that he has now killed someone. Harry seemed to take his answers into consideration though, so maybe he can accept it. Maybe he can move on from it. 

“I’m gonna call Kiki. She has my burner bag. It has cash and a cellphone that Simon knows nothing about. When I get that, I’ll give Niall a call on his phone that Simon knows nothing about. We can steal a car then go to my safe house and meet him there,” Louis tells him, having already thought of the plan a while ago. He had it in place for situations like this. He always knew he would need to be able to keep himself safe from the organization in case it came to that, and now it has. 

“Steal a car?” Harry asks, his mouth open in shock. There he is. The Harry Louis knows and has come to love. Love. A surge of a somewhat distant memory comes rushing into the forefront of Louis’ mind. He told Harry he loves him before he jumped off the cliff. He doesn’t know if Harry heard him, though. He also has the faint memory of Harry it back, in an almost begging tone, but Louis can’t be sure. It could have just as easily been a dream. 

“I don’t know what other choice we have, so yeah. I don’t have an extra car laying around, do you?” Louis asks, smirking. He is now very aware they are both naked, and Harry’s ass has been pressed against his dick for the last twenty three minutes. His body is sore and stiff, but now that Harry is no longer crying or seems to be in distress, his dick has decided it’s time to be stiff too. 

“It’s still wrong, Louis,” Harry whines, his bottom lip coming out into a pout. Louis can’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss it. 

“I know, love. What if I promise it’s a drug dealer’s car?” Louis asks, smiling and kissing Harry again. Harry’s lips are soft against his own, tasting salty from his tears. Louis has no idea how long he was crying before he woke up. He couldn’t imagine the amount of stress Harry has been under since yesterday. He must have been scared to death when he thought he was going to lose Louis the night before. Adding the fact that his father is now dead on top of it, along with all the other things that he has gone through over the past week, and now running from Simon, it’s enough to drive anyone to tears. Louis is so incredibly proud of Harry, and how strong he is. 

“How do you know it will be the car of a drug dealer?” Harry asks between kisses, his voice deeper than it was before. 

“I know a few, and what they drive,” Louis replies, kissing him again. Harry doesn't respond, just wraps his arms around Louis and begins to move. Without breaking the kiss, Harry is straddling him on the bed. Their kisses are becoming more deep and frantic, as if Harry just needs to forget. Louis knows that feeling, and is more than happy to provide Harry with amnesia for the time being. 

“Louis,” Harry murmurs, and it’s somehow a mix between a whine and a growl. His hand has come up to cup Louis’ jaw, the metal of his rings feeling familiar. Yesterday, Louis thought he would never have this again. He was sure that he would be dead by now, but no. He is getting to kiss Harry once more, and he wants to savor every single moment. 

“I know, love. We don’t have any lube. Guarantee the only thing in the drawers is a Bible, and that won’t be much use to us,” Louis jokes, smiling up at Harry who starts laughing, the words succeeding in their intended purpose. Harry’s laugh is loud and vibrant, and Louis soaks it all in, like a fish stranded on land would soak in water. He feels like he is being bathed in it, and he never wants to forget the feeling of it washing away all of his worries, even if it is just for this moment in time. 

“It wouldn’t, but we could still, you know,” Harry says, his voice dropping down to a whisper with the last words. Louis has a fuck ton of ideas in his mind that could be done without lube, but he wants Harry to say his.

“What’s that, Princess?” Louis asks, pressing his lips tightly together, trying not to smile at how uncomfortable Harry seems. His cheeks are tinting red now, the blush spreading down into his chest, visible between the soft strands of hair there. He is entirely too sexy for his own good, and him being shy about saying what he wants sexually is almost too much. Harry is the perfect contradiction. No modesty about his body or his sexuality, but shy in other ways. 

“Umm…” Harry starts, his eyes cast down between their bodies. At first, Louis thought he was just looking down in embarrassment, then Louis realizes that he is staring at their hardened dicks, only inches away from each other. Louis swallows, and holds his breath waiting for Harry to speak. Harry doesn't say anything. He just scoots closer, reaching between them and grabbing both of their dicks in one large hand. 

“Fuck. Harry,” Louis says, choking on whatever else he is about to say because the sensation of his own hard length pressed against Harry’s makes him lose the ability to speak. Harry’s hesitant at first, probably having never done this before, but eventually he gets just the right amount of pressure. It’s dry and rough, but Louis can’t find it in him to care. It feels too good. “St-Stop, Harry.” 

“What? Why? Was I… Was it…” Harry asks, confused, his hand stopping its movement. Louis doesn't even know how he forced himself to say those words, but he did. He just has other ideas, but Harry is looking as though he did something wrong. Fuck. 

“No! It was amazing. I just… I have an idea,” Louis tells him, allowing a smirk to take over his features. 

“Louis, I really don’t think it will be possible to actually use a Bible as lube,” Harry responds, his tone deadpan as he scrunches up his nose. For a split second, Louis thinks he is serious, but then Louis realizes it’s a joke. He can’t stop the laughter that is pulled from his lungs. It makes his entire body ache, but it’s worth it because Louis wasn’t sure he was ever going to laugh again. Harry makes him laugh, though. He has the kind of humor that sneaks up on him. 

“No. Of course not. It’s another idea,” Louis says after his laughs die down. Harry is looking at him curiously, a small smile on his face. He looks so beautiful that Louis has to rip his eyes away. Harry stays silent as Louis begins to move, positioning Harry on his hands and knees. Harry looks back at him with wide eyes, so Louis decides to explain further, “I wanted to thank you for saving my life three times in the span of a few hours. You were so brave. I’m so proud, so I want to show you how much I appreciate it.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Louis,” Harry insists, his words slow as he watches Louis with dark, wide eyes. He is clearly confused. He has probably never watched porn in his life, and Louis doubts any of the uptight shit pricks Harry has been with have ever performed this exact act on him. Louis is happy that he will get to be his first. Louis hums as he begins kissing the round globe of Harry’s ass cheek. 

“Harry you were incredible last night. I don’t know if you realize exactly how resourceful you truly were. You’re so fucking smart, and you have amazing instincts. Thank you,” Louis says, his voice low as he peppers kisses all over Harry’s backside in between whispered words. He isn’t sure that Harry has figured it out yet. He probably still thinks that Louis is going to lay down, and let Harry ride his face. Not yet, though. 

“I couldn’t let you d-die, Lou…” Harry’s words trail off into a hiss when Louis flattens his tongue against his puckered hole without warning. Well, Louis has had plenty of warning, he has been looking at it for the last few minutes as he kissed Harry’s skin, but Harry clearly wasn’t expecting it. Louis rears back to look at his face, and his eyes are open wide in shock. He doesn’t tell Louis to stop though, so Louis doesn’t. He spreads Harry’s cheeks a part, and licks a hot strip from the base of Harry’s balls all the way up his crack. 

“Fuck, what are you, wh…” Harry never gets to finish his question because he is moaning again, and Louis’ dick is twitching at the sound. Holy shit. 

“Are you okay with this?” Louis asks, wanting to make sure. He doesn't want Harry to feel like any more of his choices are taken from him. He wants Harry to want this, even if it’s just sex. He would never do anything Harry is uncomfortable with. Even though he thinks Harry is thoroughly enjoying it, he still wants to make sure it’s okay. 

“Yeah. I just- I’ve never done this. I’ve never even thought about it. I didn’t think it would feel so good,” Harry admits, and Louis can see his cheeks are red even in the low light of their hotel room. Louis didn’t need Harry to tell him that. He already knew, but the confirmation is nice. He would love to explore Harry’s sexual side. He clearly hasn’t gotten a chance to really figure out what he likes when it comes to sex, and Louis would love to help him to discover that. 

“Wanna ride my face? You get to control the pace. Have me right where you want me,” Louis suggests, smiling at Harry with the thought. Harry looks shocked at first, his plump lips forming a small ‘o’ then Louis can see that he is considering it. His mouth slowly closes as he nods his head. Louis smiles wide, nodding, as he quickly repositions himself, sliding his head in between Harry’s spread legs. 

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry says, and Louis can’t really see him from his position. He does lick the underside of his shaft, running his tongue along the prominent vein there before he moves to his balls. Next he gets into a better position, grabbing Harry’s thighs and pulling him so he has no choice but to literally kneel on Louis' face. As soon as he can, Louis begins licking into Harry, listening to his scream of pleasure a moment later. 

“Oh my God. Fuck. Right there,” Harry says breathlessly. Louis is the one who is having trouble breathing even though he doesn’t feel like he is lacking any oxygen. He wants to smother under Harry. He would rather die like this than under water, so he grips Harry’s hips, forcing him down further onto his face. Louis can barely breathe, but it’s perfect. Harry gets the idea a moment later, rocking back and forth. Each motion forward allows Louis a moment of air, but it’s not enough time for a full breath before Harry is rocking back again. Louis just moans, his head feeling fuzzy from lack of oxygen. 

“Not gonna… fuck. Not gonna last,” Harry says after a few more moments, the words coming out breathy. Louis releases his hold on Harry’s thighs, reaching down to find his own hard dick. He starts stroking himself, timing each one to the erratic rhythm of Harry’s hips, the sound of his own fist smacking against his balls mixing with Harry’s moans. He thinks Harry has started masturbating too, but Louis just keeps his tongue firmly out, allowing Harry to ride him. 

“Aaahh,” Louis gets out between Harry’s movements. He would say more, but he can’t. Harry hasn’t really spoken, but he also clearly hasn’t been comfortable with dirty talk. They will get there someday, but in the meantime, Louis is seconds away from coming. His moan is muffled by Harry’s wet hole, as he comes. He thinks Harry follows shortly after, his hips halting as he screams. For that brief moment, Louis forgets. He forgets they are in danger. He forgets they are in a shitty hotel room. He is just with Harry, and they are coming together. He forgets. 

__________

**_Monday afternoon…._ **

Ashton takes a deep breath, looking at the brown door in front of him, the black number five screwed to the door askew from years of being slammed. There is nothing special about the door. It is old and worn, chipped paint and a couple of suspicious stains marring it’s surface. Ashton hates the shitty apartment Luke lives in. Every time he visits him, he feels like he is seconds away from getting stabbed. Ashton has spent his fair share of time in deplorable places, but this place is on the verge of getting condemned and is falling apart around its residents. 

He takes another breath, trying to calm his anxiety. He probably should have taken an extra Xanax, or maybe seven, before he came because he feels like he may puke. He tries to calm himself down, not wanting to show on the outside how nervous he is on the inside. Luke hasn’t answered his phone since he left Ashton’s place after the phone call with his mom. Ashton is worried about him, but he knew if he had called to warn him of his arrival, then Luke would have left. He knows Luke is here. He saw his car outside, so Ashton is standing in front of the door feeling like an idiot. 

He is already mentally preparing himself for the fight that is about to occur, even though he doesn't know how much fight he has in him at the moment. He’s fucking tired. He feels like he hasn’t slept in three days. He is not only dealing with the death of one of his best friends but also Riley. He didn’t particularly like Riley, but he was Luke’s brother. He can’t imagine how much Luke is hurting right now. He cried for hours earlier that day, and Ashton just held him, but something shifted when Ashton attempted to talk to him about the funeral arrangements. Luke left, and Ashton hasn’t heard from him since. That was hours ago. 

He doesn’t bother knocking because he knows Luke won’t answer. Instead, he twists the door knob, finding it locked. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, locating his keys a moment later. He holds them in the palm of his hand, using a finger to shuffle through them, quickly finding the pink one with an ‘L’ on it. Luke had given him a spare key a year or so ago when he had been locked out of his apartment on a Friday night and had to wait for the landlord to open it the following Monday. 

He slides the key into the deadbolt, unlocking it quickly. He then finds the second deadbolt key on his key chain, repeating the process. He takes a final deep breath as he grabs the door knob with a shaking hand, twisting it before he can talk himself out of it. He walks into the studio apartment, looking around the room to find Luke. His eyes land on the bed, Luke’s head popping out from under the covers in surprise. His eyes are wide and blue, blond curly hair disheveled as if he had been asleep. Ashton has seen a sleepy Luke, and this isn’t it. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Comes a feminine voice a moment later, then Luke begins moving, revealing a very naked woman under him. A pang of hurt hits Ashton’s chest, but he doesn't allow it to show on his face, as he takes in the scene. Fuck. He really should have knocked, but it would have made no difference. She still would have been here. The anxiety that was inhabiting Ashton’s gut turns into something else entirely, churning his stomach. He’s going to be sick. 

“I could ask you the same fucking thing, Cherry,” Ashton responds, his tone icy. She doesn't even move to cover herself, but Luke looks like he is seconds away from jumping out the window. He is squirming uncomfortably, his cheeks red with embarrassment. He has nothing to be embarrassed about though. 

“I came to get fucked by your boy. Well… I guess he isn’t yours. We were done anyways,” she says, flipping her fake red hair over her shoulder and getting out of the bed. Ashton averts his gaze, sure he actually will vomit if he has to see her naked any longer. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the female form, even though he is most certainly gay, he just hates her with every fiber of his being. 

“What are you doing here?” Luke finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. Ashton turns his attention to Luke, who is slipping on his underwear while still under the covers. He is still hard, so apparently Cherry was done but Luke wasn’t. That gives Ashton some kind of satisfaction, even though he refuses to acknowledge it. 

“I came to check on you. You haven’t answered your phone, and I was worried after what happened,” Ashton says, only telling him half of the truth. There is more he wants to talk to Luke about, but with Cherry currently occupying the room, he most certainly will not. That bitch can set herself on fire for all Ashton cares, he certainly wouldn’t piss on her to put it out. 

“I’m fine,” Luke responds, but he doesn't look fine. His eyes are bloodshot, his nose red as if he has been continuously crying. Ashton wants to argue with him that he’s clearly not, but Cherry is still there. At least the cunt is wearing a bra now, so Ashton counts it as a small favor. 

“Luke…” Ashton starts but is cut off by a very shrill voice that grates on his last fucking nerve. 

“Bae, since I just gave you a ride, can you return the favor and take me back to my place? My car was stolen this morning,” Cherry says, her voice low and seductive. Ashton forces himself to look at her again, and she is fully dressed now. Her painted red lips are shaped into a pout, as she looks at Luke from beneath her eyelashes, light brown eyes wide. Ashton rolls his eyes, annoyed with her presence. 

“Oh that's so sad,” Ashton quips, but there is no kindness in his tone, only sarcasm. Maybe she should use her broom instead. It probably got stolen too, now she has nothing to stick up her clown hole. He doesn't say any of this out loud. Nope. He refuses. He really fucking hates her. He doesn’t think he has ever hated someone so fucking much in his entire life, including his own father. Jesus fuck. Just looking at her face makes him irrationally angry. 

“Bae, please,” she whines, ignoring Ashton’s comment. She crawls on the bed, wrapping her arms around Luke’s torso like poisonous vines. She is clearly trying to make Ashton jealous, but it’s not working. Ashton isn’t jealous. Luke can do whomever he pleases. He has no ownership over the man. He just wishes Luke would choose a better person instead of this disgusting excuse of a human being. Ashton wants to turn away when she begins sucking on Luke’s ear, but he forces himself to look in Luke’s eyes. 

“I can’t. Sorry. You don’t live that far away, and it’s not that cold out. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Luke finally responds, his eyes cast down as if he doesn't want to look at Ashton. Cherry whines again, apparently not getting the hint, Luke abruptly stands. When Cherry falls onto the bed, no longer being supported by Luke’s weight, Ashton wants to smile in satisfaction. However he keeps his expression neutral.

“You’re an asshole,” she huffs, standing from the bed and running her fingers through her hair. Ashton almost tells her to be careful or she may accidentally yank out an extension, but he bites his tongue deciding that the faster she leaves, the better. He can't be bothered to start an argument with her, not now. 

“Cherry, don’t forget what you came here for,” Luke reminds her, eyes wide as he looks at her. Ashton knows exactly what he is referring to, even though he sort of hoped his interruption would put a kink in their normal arrangements. She did say they were done, so he supposes that it didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look... I know you hate Luke rn... but... maybe cut him some slack? Until the next one!


	4. Lost On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton and Luke get into an argument and Louis gets an unexpected phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... here's the thing... Luke is my baby and I don't want you to hate him, but you're also supposed to kind of hate him. It's all very complicated. Enjoy lol 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_Everyday I'm a slave to the heartache_   
_And you're wasting away every night_   
_I don't wanna leave you lonely_   
_But I've run out of love this time_   
_You know that I adore you_   
_Though I couldn't give enough_   
_Hope you'll be safe in the arms of another_   
_Cause I can't take the weight of your love- Lewis Capaldi_

“Oh. Yeah. Fine, but only cause I like ya,” Cherry says after a few moments of silence. She winks at Luke and then throws a bag of cocaine on the bed a moment later. Ashton isn’t surprised one bit. It’s the only reason why Luke sleeps with Cherry. He does it so she gives him a discount on his drug of choice. What they do is their business, though. Luke is a grown man and can make his own choices. If one of them is willing to sleep with the human embodiment of a venereal disease for a discount on his next fix, then who is Ashton to say otherwise? At least he’s smart enough to wrap it up when he fucks her. 

“Thanks,” Luke responds with a smile, but it’s not aimed at Cherry. No. He is smiling at the baggy on his bed, as if it’s a chicken leg, and Luke is a starving man. 

“Have a lovely day, Cherry. It was great seeing you again!” Ashton says, his tone sickenly sweet and full of sarcasm as he smiles wide. She scoffs, flipping him off with a pale finger, as she makes the four steps to the door, high heeled boots clicking on the hardwood. He waves at her, wiggling his fingers as if she is his very best friend. She makes a face at him, slamming the door behind her a moment later. He knows he pissed her off, that was his intent. He likes to be overly nice to her because he knows it annoys her, but she can’t whine about it Luke. He doesn’t technically do anything wrong. He is always very cordial. 

“I’ve been worried about you, Luke,” Ashton starts, his face falling as soon as she is out of his eyesight. He waits to hear the click of her boots as she walks down the hallway, hopefully leaving for good before he continues. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve been trying to call you. Are you okay? Have you talked to your mom anymore?” Ashton knows it’s a lot of questions, but he’s been so worried only to find Luke in bed with his drug dealer. He will never say it out loud, but it hurts. 

“I know you probably think I’m fucking stupid for crying a whole day, so I left. I didn’t want to subject you to the mess of a human I am,” Luke answers, his eyes beginning to well with tears. He closes them, pressing hard into the sockets with his thumb and index finger. Just as Ashton is about to grab his hand and tell him to stop, worried about what kind of damage he may cause, he releases his hold. 

“What the fuck, Luke? Why would I think that?” Ashton asks, brows creasing in confusion. He feels like he missed an entire conversation between them that he didn’t even participate in. He literally has no idea where Luke came up with that, and thinks Luke has to be mistaken. That maybe he misunderstood something Ashton had said earlier that day. It was all a blur anyways. The whole morning. He barely remembers it because he was so focused on Luke and trying to get him through it while also preventing him from doing something stupid. 

“Because you barely even cried over Louis. He’s your best friend, and you hardly shed a tear. You hate emotion. You think it’s stupid and think I’m stupid for having them,” Luke responds, and Ashton’s head is already spinning from this conversation. What the actual fuck is going on? He feels like Luke is playing a trick on him or some shit. 

“When have I ever said that, Luke?” Ashton asks, the question coming out harsh as he stares at the other man. Luke’s face is dry, flakes of skin sitting on top of his hollow cheeks. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days either, his skin so thin, it’s almost translucent. Ashton is sure that if he looks hard enough, he would be able to see the muscle and bone beneath his skin. 

Luke looks around the room, as if searching for an answer. Ashton crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits, knowing he won’t find one. It’s terrible, but sometimes he has to let Luke figure out exactly how absurd his own words sound. When Luke’s eyes land on him, Ashton knows he’s not backing down, so he prepares himself. “You said that you don’t like having emotions. That you don’t like showing them, and I’m a constant emotional fucking mess. I know you don’t wanna be around me.” 

“You are literally putting words into my mouth. I’ve never said that. Yes, I don’t like to show  _ my  _ emotions, but I would never shame anyone else for showing theirs. I’m a fucking robot. I know this about myself, but I don’t hold you to the standards I hold myself,” Ashton says, his voice getting a tiny bit louder. Ashton knows himself. He is extremely self aware which is almost an issue. He just doesn’t understand why Luke would act this way. Ashton never said that Luke shouldn’t show emotion. He just said that he, himself, prefers not to. There is a difference. There is. 

“You’re not a robot! Stop acting like you are. You feel just as much as the rest of us, you’re just fucking ashamed of it,” Luke insists, but Ashton immediatelybegins shaking his head. Luke’s bare chest is heaving, the light smattering of blond hair over his sternum, catching the light of the room with every inhale. Ashton suddenly becomes extremely aware that Luke is practically naked in front of him. He has seen Luke naked hundreds of times, so it’s not that. It’s just… they are in daylight. He only ever sees Luke naked at night when everything is black and white. Now, though, everything is color, but Ashton feels blind to it. 

“That’s not true. I’m not normal Luke. Yes, I feel things, but I don’t think it is to the same degree as normal people do. You’re normal. You feel things. That’s fucking normal. Stop comparing yourself to me because I am not normal,” Ashton responds, his voice pleading to get Luke to understand. Ashton never wants Luke to compare them. That has never been his intentions, but of course, in true Luke fashion, he twists their conversation about Louis’ death in his head and convinces himself that Ashton would judge him for his level of emotion. That’s not true though. Ashton judges himself for not being emotional enough. There’s a difference. 

“I fucking feel everything, and I want it to stop! Make it fucking stop. How do you do it? How do you fucking turn it off. Teach me! Please!” Luke yells, tears streaming down his face now. It probably stings his dry skin, but Luke doesn't seem fazed. One drops on to his chest, making a path between his pectorals. Ashton wishes he could take his pain away. He wishes he could be going through this instead, because Luke doesn't deserve to have his brother taken from him. 

“It’s just who I am. You shouldn’t aspire to be like me. I’m fucked up, Luke, and so are you. We are just fucked up in different ways,” Ashton tells him, trying to put as much sincerity as he can into his statement. He needs Luke to understand that he doesn't want Luke to be an emotionless robot. He doesn't expect Luke to act like him. They aren’t the same person. They don’t have the same experiences in life. They are not the same. “Your brother just fucking died, Luke. It’s okay to be upset. I’m not going to judge you for that.”

“But you didn’t cry when Louis died! You shed a few tears, and that’s it. You haven’t even really fucking talked about it. Don’t sit there and act like you’re not hurt in the same breath that you tell me it’s okay to fucking hurt. That doesn’t make any fucking sense, Ash.” Luke has gotten closer to Ashton now, his breath hitting his face as they argue. That comment makes Ashton angry though, the unfamiliar feeling rushing through his veins. He balls his hands into fists, telling himself to stay calm. 

“Are you seriously fucking mad at me for not crying and carrying on when I found out about Louis? You have no idea what I did when I was alone. You are drawing conclusions from one moment, a moment when you were so fucked up on coke and alcohol that you didn’t even know your own name,” Ashton says, his voice cold and calculated despite the white hot anger that is currently coursing through his veins. 

“Yes. You should be crying! You should be screaming! You should be mad at the fucking world!” Luke screams, mouth opening wide with his words. It only makes Ashton angrier, though, his limbs beginning to shake with rage. He doesn't get angry very often, but right now he is seething. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell because Ashton isn’t screaming. He’s not throwing punches or crying. He is so white hot, he’s cold. 

“I am mad at the world, Luke. I just don’t show it like you do. You don’t get to fucking tell me how to grieve, Luke. It’s not your fucking place to tell me how to grieve the loss of my best fucking friend. I’m not telling you how to grieve over your brother, so don’t tell me how to fucking grieve over mine,” Ashton responds, his tone icy and his nostrils flaring. Luke doesn't even flinch. He turns away from Ashton with his speech, pacing beside the bed a few times. 

“You act like you don’t care!” Luke says, as soon as Ashton is done, his hand flying into the air as he quickly makes his way back over to Ashton, getting in his face. Ashton almost pushes him. He almost loses his cool completely and tells him exactly what he thinks, that Luke is acting like a little fucking brat. That Luke has no concept of the real world and what true pain actually is. He doesn't, though. He refuses to do that because he will not stoop to Luke’s level. He will not say shit just to hurt him. 

“I do care. Of course, I fucking care. He was my brother. Of course, I’m sad that he’s gone. Of course, I fucking miss him and my heart aches. He’s dead, and there isn’t a single fucking thing I can do about it. People die every day. I just don’t see the point in dwelling on it. I know that makes me a heartless bastard, but that’s just how I am. Again, you do not get to dictate how I handle grief. You do not get to tell me I’m doing it wrong.” 

Ashton punctuates each word of his last sentence with a poke to Luke’s chest, feeling the hard bone below his fingertip. Luke’s big body sways with the force, but he doesn't flinch. It’s like he wants Ashton to be angry. It’s like he wants to get a response from him, so he just keeps pushing and fucking pushing, trying to get Ashton to break. He refuses to break, though. Not this time. 

“I’m not!” Luke yells, but there is a distinct whine to his voice that wasn’t there before. Ashton can’t decide if it’s because Luke knows that it’s a lie or if Luke is frustrated because Ashton misunderstood him. Either way, Ashton can’t find a single fuck to give. He’s too angry. Luke has turned away from him again, but he doesn't pace this time. Instead he buries his fingers in his hair, pulling hard. He is clearly frustrated with himself, and Ashton almost grabs his hands and tells him to stop because he is going to hurt himself. He doesn't, though. He allows Luke to do it, too angry to care. 

“Yes, you are. That’s exactly what you’re fucking doing right now,” Ashton responds, his voice rising an octave higher than it had been. It’s the first time he has raised his voice in this entire conversation. Luke whips around, and for a split second, Ashton thinks he may punch him. He looks angry, but he doesn't open his mouth to refute Ashton’s statement. He knows he can’t. After a few moments of heavy silence, Ashton decides to change the subject to the real reason he came. “Earlier, when I was talking to your mom on the phone after… the… um news… She said that Riley’s viewing is tonight. She wants you to go. I didn’t get a chance to tell you because you left so abruptly, but I didn’t want you to miss it. She said to call her. Do you want to go?” 

“No,” Luke says quickly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes are so blue, they look like the sky on a clear day, a juxtaposition to his stormy personality and catastrophic emotional outbursts. At least he stopped crying somewhere between fucking Cherry and telling Ashton how he should grieve. He just looks angry now, his full lips pulled into a harsh line. The blond stubble on his jaw surrounding them like a frame. He looks beautiful even when he’s screeching. Ashton somewhat hates himself for feeling that way. For putting up with this shit, but it’s not Luke’s fault. He clearly has a lot of issues, and Ashton can’t just abandon him. 

“Luke…” Ashton starts, but Luke cuts him off. 

“I’m not going. I don’t want to. I’ll go to his funeral tomorrow or whatever, but I’m not going to the viewing,” Luke insists, his eyes cast down to the floor. A second later, he has a pair of black skinny jeans in his hands, shoving one leg into one hole then the other, jumping up and down to pull them the rest of the way on. Ashton has no idea why he finds it so attractive and endearing, but he tells himself to fucking stop. 

“Why?” Ashton asks because he doesn't understand why Luke wouldn’t want to go. Luke doesn't answer right away, finding a shirt in the next few seconds, angrily yanking it over the mop of curls on his head. Ashton has never seen anyone put on a shirt in an angry manner, and didn’t even know it was possible, but today he apparently gets to witness it. Ashton just stares at him, waiting for an answer as he begins shoving his feet into his favorite pointed toe boots. 

“Because I don’t want to look at my family anymore than I have to!” Luke yells, standing up, and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, heading towards the door. What the fuck. He can’t just leave. No. Ashton refuses to let him. He doesn't ever walk away from an argument, he never backs down from a fight. They are going to fucking finish this conversation. Ashton refuses to leave, and he's not going to allow Luke to either. 

“You’re gonna regret it if you don’t go, we both know it,” Ashton says, grabbing Luke’s hand to stop him from getting near the door. Luke whirls around, the coat draped over his arm billowing out with the inertia. Ashton can feel the breeze from it on his body, adding to the draftiness of the apartment whenever it’s cold outside. He doesn't know how Luke manages to live in this place without freezing to death. Oh yeah, cocaine makes body temperature rise, so he probably doesn't even feel the cold most of the time. 

“Why are you even fucking here Ashton? To drill me about going to a fucking viewing?” Luke asks, and Ashton can tell he is still angry. His posture is defensive, his nostrils are flaring, a hot flame dancing behind his blue eyes. Ashton releases his arm, realizing he is still holding on to him. The skin was warm under his fingertips, and Ashton already misses the familiar touch. 

“No. I told you. I was worried about you when I couldn’t reach you,” Ashton responds, which isn’t a lie. It’s the truth, but he did come to discuss the viewing with Luke. He wasn’t trying to ‘grill’ him or whatever. He just wanted to talk to him and offer support, but all he has gotten is Luke’s misplaced anger. Typical. All Ashton is to Luke is a fuck buddy and a punching bag, so it seems. 

“Well… I’m fine,” Luke responds, a finality to his tone, even though Ashton knows it’s a fucking lie. He’s not fine. He looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten anything in days. His eyes are red and bloodshot from crying, the skin of his face dry and blotchy. He’s clearly not fine, and Ashton doesn't understand why Luke doesn’t fucking say that. He sure as fuck will say when he’s not fine any other day. 

“Clearly,” Ashton responds, looking down at the bag of cocaine still on the bed in front of them, his eyes then traveling over the disheleved sheets where Luke was fucking Cherry just moments ago. He can still smell the scent of sex that is lingering in the air. It churns his stomach, a reminder of what he walked in on. He shivers thinking about what would have happened if he was five minutes earlier. He would have probably seen a lot more than he did, and no. Ashton refuses to think about that. 

“You came over here because you knew I would be with Cherry, and you wanted to interrupt us,” Luke accuses, his voice unwavering but quieter than it has been. Ashton has to laugh, so he does. It comes out almost maniacal at the accusation, but Luke is clearly not laughing along. He looks hurt, and what the actual fuck does he have to be hurt over? He was the one fucking Cherry, not the other way around. 

“Don’t be fucking insane, Luke. How could I possibly know that you would have Cherry over? Better yet, why the fuck do I care?” Ashton asks, his response logical despite the fact that he wants to scream the words that are in his head. He wants to hurt Luke the way Luke hurts him, but he doesn't. He refuses to be that person. No. Instead, he approaches this whole subject with logic like he normally would, refusing to let his feelings get in the way of reason. 

“You’re fucking jealous of her. You always have been,” Luke insists, blue eyes squinted like he's watching Ashton’s reaction. His stance is strong, folding his arms over his chest, the coat draping over to touch his waist. He looks hot, and Ashton tells himself he doesn't want to fall to his knees and suck his dick. That’s just usually where these conversations lead, but not this time. This will not end in them fucking. They will never get anywhere if their conversations continue that way, so Ashton refuses to swallow Luke’s screams with his mouth, as is their tradition. 

“What are you talking about? Are you high right now? Jesus fucking Christ, why would I be jealous of a drug dealer that somehow managed to get her car stolen?” Ashton asks, brow creased in confusion. He knows the high comment was a low blow, well, a low blow for his standards, but evidently Ashton has incredibly high standards because Luke barely flinches at the comment. 

“Because I fuck her. I know you hate it. I can see it on your face. You hate that I fuck her,” Luke continues, and it’s not a lie. Ashton does hate that Luke fucks her, but it has nothing to do with the fact that Luke is fucking someone. It’s just that Luke is fucking  _ her.  _ She’s disgusting. She’s scum. She sells Luke drugs then uses his addiction to get off. Logically, Ashton knows it’s hypocritical, though. They are two consenting adults, and Luke chose to do drugs. It just seems… wrong. Like Cherry takes advantage of Luke, and he hates her for it. 

“You’re a grown man. You can dip your dick in whoever you fucking please, Luke,” Ashton says, getting around the accusation easily. It’s the truth, though. Ashton isn’t jealous  _ of her.  _ He hates her for a variety of different reasons and not a single one of them has to do with her sexual relationship with Luke. The fact that the thought of them having sex makes Ashton physically ill is neither here no there. It’s purely because of how much Ashton hates her for other things. 

“You can’t tell me you’re not fucking jealous,” Luke responds, his voice getting loud again as he gestures with his hand, letting it fall to clap loudly against his thigh. The noise reverberates across the room, and Ashton can almost feel it on his skin. He is getting irritated again. He fucking hates when Luke tries to tell him how he feels, and what he thinks. Luke doesn't know shit about the thoughts that occupy Ashton’s mind. He knows that Luke would like to know, but Ashton never lets him past the surface. He never shares his innermost thoughts with anyone, and he sure as fuck isn’t going to burden Luke with them. Luke has enough on his own fucked up plate. 

“I. Am. Not. Jealous,” Ashton maintains, each word punctuated with a harsh vowel. He continues, not giving Luke a chance to cut him off and call him a liar. “I don’t fucking own you. We aren’t even dating. You are single and free to fuck whoever you want. It makes zero difference to me.” Ashton says, and it sounds like a lie, even to his own ears. It’s not though. It’s true. It would be completely illogical for Ashton to care. Luke has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't want to date him. He doesn’t want anymore than the occasional fuck, so no, Ashton refuses to care who Luke sleeps with. 

“Get out, Ashton. Get the fuck out!” Luke screams, his mouth opening wide but Ashton crosses his arms over his chest, not budging. They stand there, staring at each other for a few minutes or maybe hours. Ashton doesn't know, but he’s not leaving. He is also not giving into temptation and kissing Luke. No. That would be bad. So he just stands there, deciding that Luke will have to start actually talking sooner or later. 

“Fine. If you won’t leave, then I will,” Luke finally breaks the silence, moving to pick the bag of coke up off the mattress. He shoves it in his pocket, turning to leave again. Ashton grabs him, but Luke pulls his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me Ashton. I’m not yours to touch,” Luke spits, shoving hard on Ashton’s chest. Before Ashton can say another word, the door slams behind him. Ashton bites his lips, telling himself he will not cry. 

__________

**_Monday evening…._ **

“So, are we just going to assume new identities and get the hell out of town like our plan was for Liam?” Niall asks, sitting across from Louis. They are in their safe house. After Louis and Harry had showered at the hotel, and Kiki brought him his bag, they stole a cherry red Mini Cooper with a personalized license plate that says ‘CouCou’ which Harry had informed him means ‘hello’ in French. Louis didn’t care. He knew it was the car of a well known drug dealer, so he stole it. Also, watching Harry fold his ridiculous long legs into a tiny car was the most comical thing to happen in Louis’ shitty day so far. 

“Yeah. That’s the only thing I can think of. Simon probably thinks we’re dead, so we need it to stay that way. I’ve got enough money in hidden accounts to last us for a long time, so it should be fine. We can assume new identities and just be normal people,” Louis responds, glancing over at Harry to ensure that the other man isn’t freaking the fuck out. If he is, he doesn't let it show on his face. Louis knows he is asking a lot of Harry, but it isn’t safe for Harry to go back to his old life. Simon will find him and kill him. 

“Okay. Guess we can stay here for a few days, then get the hell outta dodge. We have enough food and supplies to last longer if we need, but the sooner we leave the state, the better,” Niall responds, his eyes serious. Louis sighs, wishing there was another way out of this situation. He will call Ashton and Luke to tell them that he’s alive in a few weeks time, allowing the dust to settle a bit first. Hopefully by then, Simon would have given up his search and believed them to be dead. 

Harry and Liam are quiet as Niall and Louis continue to make plans, and Louis isn’t sure if he should be concerned. They both seem like they are in shock though, so Louis figures they just need some time to process everything. Louis will never forget the look on Niall and Liam’s faces when Harry and Louis recounted the events of last night. They were both shocked, and Liam actually gasped when Harry confessed that he shot his father. 

It all just feels so surreal, like they are living in a nightmare. Louis looks outside, noticing that it has gotten dark in the past few hours that they have been there. It is now around 8pm. It’s hard to believe that exactly 24 hours ago, Harry was shooting his father, and they were jumping off a fucking cliff. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a day. A mere 24 hours. Holy fuck. What has his life become? No. Louis can’t think about that. What’s done is done. They need to move forward, not look back. 

“Babe. Your phone is ringing.” Harry’s deep voice breaks into Louis’ memories of the wind pushing his hair back as they jumped together into the inky darkness. He shakes his head, the world coming back into focus. Harry is looking at him, his green eyes worried. It is then that Louis notices he is holding a phone, a tone that Louis doesn't recognize blaring out of it. It takes another three seconds to realize that it’s Louis’ phone, the one that Kiki brought him from his burn bag. 

“That’s… weird,” Louis says, staring at the number but not recognizing it. He wracks his brain, trying to list the people who would have that number. Niall, Ashton and Luke are the only ones, and he would recognize those numbers. The phone goes silent as soon as Louis takes it from Harry’s hand, still staring at it confusedly. It feels like he is looking at everything through a haze, his brain refusing to work at full capacity, like a lagging computer where too much is bogging down the system. Louis jumps when it starts ringing again. 

“Should you answer it?” Harry asks, his voice skeptical. “It could be Simon.” Harry almost whispers the name, like he is afraid to say it too loud or he will summon his presence. They would need an altar for that because Simon is so evil, he could only be summoned with a blood sacrifice. 

“There is no way he could have gotten this number,” Louis answers. The phone stops ringing, and Louis almost sighs in relief. It begins again immediately after. 

“Maybe it’s Ash from his own burner phone,” Niall offers, and Louis never thought of that. He takes a deep breath, pressing the answer button. 

“Hello,” Louis answers, his skin prickling with anticipation. The other end is silent for a moment. All Louis can hear is breathing and the rustling of something that could be papers. He almost hangs up before a feminine voice begins to speak. 

“Louis. Louis. Is that you?” She asks, her familiar tone high pitched, on the verge of hysteria. Lottie. Louis gave Lottie this number the day he told her to leave. Fuck. It has to be her, but he needs to know for sure. 

“Lottie?” He asks, not answering her question. He glances around the room. Liam looks confused, and Harry appears worried, while Niall is leaning towards Louis on his elbows, clearly intrigued. Louis rolls his eyes at his friend, his gaze landing on Harry next. He tries to shrug, as if to say he doesn't know for sure. Harry nods like he understands. 

“Yes. It’s me. Lottie,” she responds, and it doesn't sound like a lie. 

“Prove it.” Louis’ tone is harsh, but he can’t take any chances. Simon could be playing a trick. He hates how paranoid he is being, but he can’t afford to let his guard down for a feminine voice. “Tell me something only you and I would know,” he clarifies when she begins to sputter. 

“Okay. Umm. When I was five, mom and dad bought us a kitten. You started calling it Kevin, and I cried for weeks because it was a girl, and I thought you were confusing it. When I was seven, you found out this girl at school was bullying me, so you told me to throat punch her. I did, and I got into a ton of trouble, but she never bothered me again. You used to let me put makeup on you while we watched Disney movies, and Dad would get furious when he found out, but you didn’t care that he beat the hell out of you, you still did it…” Louis cuts her off, the words coming out faster and faster with each new sentence. It’s her. Fuck. 

“Lottie. Fuck. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Louis asks, watching Harry’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Lottie is talking so loud, they probably heard everything she said on the other end. Harry chuckled at the first two memories, but his smile dropped with the last one. Louis had forgotten about those beatings until Lottie brought them up. It’s funny how a mind works, but he remembers them very clearly now. It was hell. He would have to cover his bruises just to go to school because his dad was trying to prevent Louis from turning into the family disgrace. Apparently beating him while his mom was working seemed to be the best way. A lot of good it did, though. 

“I just got home from work, and… and… I found this note slipped under my door. He has her,” she says, her voice on the edge of panic as she burst into sobs. It sounds like she was barely holding them back. Louis tries to make sense of her words. A note? Who has who?

“Lottie. You need to calm down and tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you unless I understand. Who has who?” Louis asks, keeping his voice as calm as possible. He feels helpless being on the other end of the phone. He wishes he could do more to comfort her, but there is a considerable amount of distance between them. He doesn't even know where she is. He doesn't know if she is safe. He hates feeling helpless. He feels a large hand on his back a moment later. Harry must have sensed his distress because he is now rubbing his back, attempting to comfort him. Louis leans into it, pressing the phone hard against his ear, listening intently as Lottie tries to compose herself. 

“Poppy. He has Poppy. A man named Simon,” she gets out through labored breaths. 

“Who’s Poppy, love?” Louis asks, a chill going down his spine at the mention of Simon’s name. Whoever this is must mean something to Lottie. Maybe it’s her friend or… 

“Poppy is our sister, Lou. I know you’ve never met her. She was born shortly after dad… umm… after he kicked you out. Mom was early in her pregnancy, and she didn’t tell you. She’s our sister, and I know that you’ve never met her. You may not care, but she’s gone. Someone called Simon took her,” she tells him, clearly confused as to who Simon is. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is a lot to process. Carey wasn’t lying when he said that Louis had another sister. His mom was pregnant. Fuck. That makes more sense. It’s no wonder she didn’t follow Louis out the door. She was concerned for the safety of her unborn child. Maybe she thought she would be able to find him again, or that Louis would come back. She must have been so scared. Louis’ eyes prickle with tears. 

“Of course I care. Lottie. You need to tell me everything. How do you know a man named Simon has her?” Louis asks, holding his eyes open until they sting to stop the tears from coming. Concern over a sister that he has never met grips his stomach, making him feel like he is going to puke up the dinner they just ate. He listens to Lottie take a few deep breaths on the other end, clearly trying to compose herself. He’s so proud. She’s so strong. He couldn’t imagine how much she must be freaking out right now. 

“I just came home from work, and I called for her. She didn’t answer, so then I looked all over the apartment. I couldn’t find her. When I picked up my phone to call her friends, I noticed an envelope laying on the floor in front of the door. I opened it, and it had a picture of her along with a note. The note said that they kidnapped her, and for me to contact you. It said that you have a week to give yourself up, or she would be sold to the highest bidder. It was signed off by a man named Simon,” Lottie recounts, and Louis can hear a paper shaking. She must be holding the note. 

“Okay Lottie. You need to listen to me very carefully. We don’t have a lot of time,” Louis starts, looking down at his watch. They have been on the phone for five minutes. If they are running a trace on her phone, then they could find Louis’ location at any moment. He doesn't know that they are doing that, but he can't chance it. “Do you have a car?” 

“Yes,” she responds, without hesitation. 

“Okay. Pack a bag. In the next hour or so, I need you to go and get in your car. Go to Walmart and get one of those cheap, pay by card phones with minutes that you can purchase. Leave your phone at home, but write down this number. Afterwards, start driving around town. Make sudden turns. Don’t use your turn signals. Once you’re sure you are not being followed, I need you to leave the city driving west. As soon as you’re outside of city limits, call me back. I will get you to where I am. Bring the note, and any pictures you have of Poppy.” Louis talks slowly, wanting to ensure that she understands every single word. 

“I can do that,” Lottie responds quickly, and he can tell she is already starting to get a bag together from her breathing pattern. “And don’t worry, I won’t be followed.” She sounds determined, and Louis trusts her to do this. She didn’t disappear like he told her to, but that was only a few days ago. She didn’t have time, especially with being the sole provider for her sister. It’s not easy to disappear with a young girl. 

“Okay. I’ll be waiting for your call, but please be careful. Make sure you aren’t being followed. That is imperative,” he repeats, glancing over at Harry for comfort. Harry is clearly listening to their conversation, his warm hand still present on Louis’ back. Niall and Liam look as though they are only getting pieces of the conversation, probably not being able to hear it as well as Harry, who is sitting right beside him. 

“What are you going to do?” She asks, and Louis can hear the uncertainty coating her question. Louis hasn’t thought that far ahead yet, but it’s a very good question. 

“I’m gonna make a few phone calls. See if I can find where he is holding her,” Louis responds, deciding that’s the best course of action. She seems satisfied with that answer, and they say their goodbyes, hanging up a moment later. Louis deflates as soon as he hits the call end button with a shaky finger. 

“What the fuck?” Niall says, breaking the silence. 

“I’ll explain everything in a minute. Need to call Ash,” Louis tells them, the phone already up to his ear as soon as he dials Ashton’s number that he knows by heart. It only rings once before it goes to voicemail. Louis doesn’t leave one, hanging up and trying again. 

“Babe. I don’t think he’s going to answer,” Harry soothes him, after Louis has called four times to no avail. He even tried Luke’s number, with the same issue. He doesn't know if they have something going on and they turned off their phones or if Simon killed them for being loyal to Louis. Worry for his friends churns his gut. He hopes they are okay. 

“Any ideas on who we could call? Someone that won’t rat us out to Simon?” Louis asks after explaining to them what’s going on. He throws his phone on the table, angry at it for not being able to reach his friends. He knows it’s stupid, but he feels so fucking helpless in this moment, taking out his frustrations on an inanimate object seems like a good thing to do. Then he remembers that Lottie will be calling it for further directions in a couple of hours. It needs to actually work, so he can’t break it. 

“I’ll make a few phone calls, but I doubt any of my guys will know anything. I would bet money that Simon is going to keep this in his inner circle. You know too many people,” Niall responds, and Louis wants to scream. He knows Niall is right, but that doesn't make it any easier. They need a fucking plan. 

“I’m going to have to give myself up,” Louis says, his voice quiet as he suddenly comes to an obvious conclusion. He just feels panicked right now. That’s the only thing he can think of. Giving himself up is the quickest way to get Poppy back to Lottie. He can’t go and find Ashton, it’s too dangerous to even set foot back into the city right now. He feels like he is seconds away from throwing up, worry churning his gut. If Ashton and Luke are dead, then it’s his fault. The least he can do is give himself to Simon so that Poppy makes it out of this alive. 

“No. Don’t even fucking start Louis. You’re not going to try to sacrifice yourself again,” Harry responds, his tone harsh and unwavering. Louis looks at him, a fire behind his green eyes. He isn’t going to budge on this, but Louis has to argue. It’s the only thing he can think of. “The note said you have a week, right? Just keep trying to call Ash and Luke. Give them a few hours. Something could be going on, but I’m sure he’s fine. If he doesn't answer by tomorrow afternoon, then we will begin coming up with another plan.”

“What is the other plan, Harry? I can’t go and find Ashton and Luke. Simon will be watching them because they would be obvious choices for me to contact. I have to stay hidden, and out of the city or he will find me. What else am I going to do? Ashton is our only hope, or I will have to give myself up to Simon in exchange for Poppy’s freedom,” Louis says, running through every possible scenario in his head, throwing out each one that simply will not work. Louis hates feeling helpless. He’d rather sacrifice himself than feel helpless. 

“You have a week before you have to go throw yourself at Simon’s mercy. Give Ashton a little bit of time to answer his phone. In the meantime, Niall can call the people he knows. One of them may have a lead. You don’t need to be sacrificing yourself so early. Stop trying to be a fucking martyr. Your life is worth something,” Harry replies, passion filling his voice. Louis doesn't say anything in response because he can’t. He knows Harry is right. They have time, and he is just jumping the gun because of how helpless he feels.

“Okay. Fine. Okay,” Louis concedes, and Harry smiles, leaning in to kiss him chastly on the lips. Louis still feels like they are fucked, but he has to wait and see. He doesn't have any other option even though the trepidation in his gut feels like it is seconds away from eating him alive. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to calm himself, going through the facts in his head. Simon kidnapped his sister. She’d have to be about 13. Her name is Poppy. 

They spend the next hour anxiously waiting for Lottie’s phone call, and each second that ticks by, creates more anxiety in Louis’ veins. His heart begins beating rapidly every time he thinks about it, but nothing is serving as a distraction. Ashton hasn’t answered his phone nor has he called Louis. Niall has made a few calls, and is waiting to hear back from at least one person. Everyone is just kind of sitting in silence, the room feeling heavy with apprehension, making it so any words formed will not make it out into the open. When his phone begins ringing, Louis jumps. 

He doesn't recognize the number, but he did tell Lottie to get a new phone. He answers it after a few seconds with a shaking finger. “Hello,” he says into the receiver, and the line sounds fuzzy, as if the other person is driving. It has to be Lottie, but Louis still finds himself holding his breath. 

“Hey. I’m on the highway. Any leads on Poppy?” She asks, getting right to the point. It sounds like she has calmed down a lot, her breathing patterns no longer near hyperventilation. She actually sounds on the verge of anger. Louis knows it’s not at him, but then again, he doesn't know his sister very well anymore. He doesn't know her at all really, so she could be angry at him. This is all his fault after all, so he doesn't really blame her. 

“Not yet. Ni called a few of his guys. The one he got a hold of said he didn’t know anyone by the name of Poppy. We are still waiting for a few more contacts to come through, though,” Louis tells her, wishing he had better news. Harry is right, though. It is going to take time. They have a week to figure this out. Even though he feels like he is about to jump out of his skin, he needs to fight the urge to just turn himself in. He doesn't want Simon to win. He doesn’t want all of Harry’s sacrifices to be for nothing, so he will do everything he can to find her without going to Simon. 

“Ask about Penelope,” she says, and Louis must have heard wrong. 

“Who?” Louis asks, pressing the phone harder to his ear. He listens carefully, in case their connection is bad. Maybe she is going through a tunnel. 

It doesn’t take her long to answer his question, “Poppy is short for Penelope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know you didn't read my note at the beginning and you probably hate Luke... remember his brother JUST DIED. Also, hope you enjoyed the PLOT TWIST. We all know I'm a hoe for a good plot twist hahaha


	5. Twin Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke finds Ashton, and Louis gets a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is where the book earns its depiction of elicit drug use tag. Again, I did my absolute best not to romanticize it. This chapter can be triggering for many. It talks about drug use, overdosing, self harm, and many other triggering topics. If you would like to discuss it with me first, my DMs are open. 
> 
> I also realize that you probably think Luke is a dick and you will probably think he is even more of a dick after this chapter. Please try to understand that he is hurting badly, and he doesn't really know how to cope. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_We were on fire  
A frequency of me and you  
We were on fire  
One flame bursting into two  
We were on fire  
We watched the whole world burn away  
We were on fire  
I was you and baby you were me  
You crawled into these flames with me- In this Moment _

**_Early hours of Tuesday Morning…._ **

“Ashton! I know you’re in there! Can we talk?!” Luke yells, banging on Ashton’s front door, after having tried the doorbell several times. He knows he’s home and awake. His car is in the driveway, and Luke can hear the faint sound of music, probably coming from the record player in the living room. He would have just called him, but Luke currently has his phone off, and the thought of turning it back on makes anxiety churn his gut. He knows Ashton has his phone off as well. Simon is going to be so pissed off if he tries to get a hold of him, but he just can’t deal with that right now. He can’t even deal with himself. 

“Ash, baby, please open the door,” Luke tries again, hitting his palm against the surface more softly now. He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He said things to Ashton that he probably shouldn’t have, but Ashton has never cut off all communication with him before. Usually when Luke storms out, he comes back to find that Ashton is still there, waiting to talk. Ashton wasn’t there this time, though. He left, and Luke has been up all night thinking about it. 

By around 3 am, the moonlight coming through his window felt like it was mocking him. He thought that if he could just make it until sunrise, then maybe he wouldn’t feel this way or maybe Ashton would come back. He hasn’t slept at all, but at least he is no longer crying. He thought he had ran out of tears, but that seems to have been a false hope. They are back, his eyes prickling with them as he continues to stare at the door separating him from Ashton. He just wants to talk to him, make sure he’s okay. He doesn't want Ashton to fall back into old habits, and Luke is scared that he pushed him too far. 

So an hour later, he finds himself standing in front of Ashton’s door. The moonlight has won. He didn’t make it to dawn. He doesn't want to make it to dawn. Riley’s funeral is in a few short hours. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to face the lifeless body of his brother when it’s his fault that he’s dead. He can’t do it alone. He doesn't know if Ashton wants to come with him. He probably doesn't even want to see him at this point, but Ashton is his rock. He gets him through all of his storms, and he needs him now, even if he knows he doesn’t deserve him. 

“Why didn’t you just use your key?” Luke is so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even register the door being opened. He looks up, finding Ashton leaning against the doorway, thick arms crossed over his chest. He is shirtless, a pair of loose fitted jeans slung low on his hips. His black hair is disheveled, no longer slicked back with gel. Even in the pale moonlight, Luke can see his eyes are bloodshot, probably having slept as little as Luke has in the past few days. 

“I didn’t think I had the right to use it,” Luke responds, casting his eyes down so he doesn't have to see Ashton’s face anymore. He kicks at a pebble that somehow made its way onto Ashton’s porch. He feels embarrassed for being here right now, but he also feels like absolute shit. He is queasy and light headed, making his consistent migraine that much worse. Exhaustion is weighing down his limbs, eyes heavy from fatigue but not being able to actually get any sleep. 

“You can use it whenever you want, Luke. I gave it to you for that reason,” Ashton says, and Luke can see his frosty breath from the words through his own eyelashes. He still doesn't look at him. He can’t bring himself to. Instead, he keeps his eyes trained on Ashton’s bare feet. They are long and skinny, his second toe longer than the first one. “It’s cold out here. Why don’t you come in?” 

“Okay,” Luke agrees, nodding and finally looking up at Ashton’s face. His arms are no longer crossed in front of his chest, the snake tattoo on his bicep moving with the muscle beneath. Luke wants to lick it. It would be an amazing distraction for the current fucking chaos that is his life. Ashton moves out of the doorway, grabbing Luke by the wrist and pulling him inside. He shuts the door behind them, and Luke slips off his boots before he walks into the living room. It’s a lot warmer than it is outside, so he also removes his coat. 

“You look exhausted. Have you slept at all?” Ashton asks, concern creasing his brows as he takes in Luke’s appearance with worried hazel eyes. Luke resists the urge to squirm. He doesn’t answer right away, just shakes his head. Luke almost points out that Ashton looks just as bad as he does, but he knows Ashton will ignore him. Ashton likes to pretend he’s invincible. That he doesn’t need anyone’s concern, as if he remains unbothered about everything. It’s not true, but Luke doesn’t want to fight with him right now. 

“Not since Saturday night really. Sunday we found out about Lou then yesterday everything happened with Riley. I haven’t been able to,” Luke answers finally because he knows Ashton is waiting for him to answer. Neither of them are very good at sleeping in general, but adding the death that seems to be following them around lately is a recipe for disaster. Luke is so tired he wants to cry, but at the same time, he is sick of crying. His skin is chapped from it, but at least his nose isn’t stuffy any more. 

“Come on. Come lay in my bed. Even if you don’t fall asleep, at least you can rest for a few hours,” Ashton says, grabbing Luke’s hand. Ashton’s hand is so much bigger than Luke’s despite the fact that Luke is much taller. He loves holding hands with Ashton. It somehow makes him feel small and safe. Like Ashton will always lead him in the right direction, so he follows with little resistance. They don’t usually sleep over at each other’s houses, so this is a new phenomenon for him. He definitely doesn't come over just to sleep. 

Ashton doesn’t say anything as he slowly undresses him with none of the usual caressing. He is all business so it seems, but Luke is really too tired to do anything else. He just obediently lifts his arms when it’s time for Ashton to pull his shirt off, grateful for Ashton’s help because he doesn’t know if he has the energy to undress himself. Ashton pushes him on to the bed, undoing his jeans and yanking the tight fabric from his thighs. Luke is suddenly very cold and begins to shiver. 

“Under the covers,” Ashton says softly, but Luke doesn't think he can physically make himself sit up. His arms are heavy with exhaustion, his brain too tired to move his body. He thinks he hears Ashton laugh, so he forces his eyes open, finding Ashton smiling down at him, his dimples creasing into his cheeks. He looks lovely with the soft light of the room behind him. They should do this more often. The next thing he knows, he is being hoisted up by strong arms. He is standing a moment later, leaning most of his weight against a firm warm body. 

“Come on baby, get under the covers then you can fall asleep. How does that sound?” Ashton asks softly, and Luke is close to tears. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Luke mumbles, his brain too far gone to filter any of the thoughts in his head from coming out of his mouth. He means it, though. He doesn't deserve Ashton. 

“If you didn’t deserve me, then I wouldn’t be here. Neither of us are amazing,” Ashton responds, and it’s the same thing he always says. Luke doesn't believe him though. He doesn't know why Ashton sticks around. He doesn't understand why he is so nice to him all the time, but he is. Ashton is amazing to Luke, and Luke feels like he is undeserving of that. Luke is an asshole. 

“I’m sorry, Ash. I didn’t mean to tell you how to grieve. You’re right. We are all different. I’m sorry I said some of those things. I’m just… I’m sad,” Luke says, his voice barely above a whisper. Ashton doesn't say anything right away. Instead, he gently pushes Luke onto the bed, the soft mattress below him in an instant. Luke’s body lays down before his brain can even tell it to, cuddling into sheets that smell like Ashton. They smell like happiness. 

“It’s okay to be sad,” Ashton responds, turning off the light, shrouding the room in darkness. Luke can’t see him, but he knows he is undressing himself. He knows the sound of the fabric as it slides down his curvy thighs. A few seconds later, Ashton is slipping into bed beside him. Luke notices that Ashton didn’t comment on Luke’s apology over their whole grief argument. He just commented on Luke’s admission for being sad. Luke is too tired to figure out what that means, though. 

“I don’t feel like it is. You say it all the time. Death is inevitable. People die every day,” Luke recites Ashton’s words from memory. In their jobs, they talk about death a lot. They are faced with it everyday. Luke always gets sad when people close to him die on the job. Ashton tells him all the time that death is just a part of life, and he agrees with that objectively, but it’s not that easy for Luke. He is empathetic by nature, so he has more of a difficult time separating his emotions from his work. He has always admired Ashton’s ability to do that. 

“It is, but that doesn't mean you can’t be sad about losing your brother, Luke. I know I don’t show it the same way you do, but I’m sad about losing Louis. I’m not that heartless. I know it’s not the same, but Louis was like a brother to me. I’m also sad about losing Riley. Everything just sucks right now.” Ashton’s breath ghosts over Luke’s face, and Luke closes his eyes at the warmth. Even in the darkness, Luke watches Ashton’s large hand come up to caress his face. Luke nuzzles into it, kissing his palm in a rare show of affection as his heavy eyelids fall shut and stay that way. 

Luke wakes up to sunlight on his face, and a hard, warm body behind him. He is confused to find Ashton’s hand resting on his hip, his chest pressing against Luke’s back with every inhale. Luke and Ashton never sleep together. It takes his groggy brain a few minutes to figure out how he ended up here. Oh yeah. In a moment of sheer desperation, Luke was knocking on Ashton’s door at 4 am. He’s so fucking pathetic. 

Luke presses the palms of his hands into his dry eyes, rubbing hard as a way to punish himself. He is still exhausted, and the clock in Ashton’s room tells him they only slept for six hours. That’s more than Luke has slept in three days, so he will take it. He can feel Ashton move behind him, mumbling something as he tightens his hold on Luke’s hip, pulling him closer against his body. It is then that Luke is made aware of Ashton’s semi-hard cock pressed against his crack. 

Luke begins grinding on Ashton, deciding to pretend that his brother’s funeral isn’t in three hours. Ashton can make him forget. He always does, so Luke begins moving his hips, the cloth of their underwear serving as a very thin barrier. He hears Ashton moan, probably beginning to wake up and thinking that it’s a dream. Luke continues his movements, his own cock becoming harder in his underwear. 

“What are you doing?” Ashton asks, the gravely tone of his morning voice sending a spark of electricity up Luke’s spine. He feels Ashton’s long fingers grip his hip hard, stopping his movements. Luke whimpers. Ashton sounds like he is awake now, but he isn’t sure how coherent the other man is. 

“Fuck me,” Luke says, turning around to look at Ashton. His eyes are open wide, looking almost green in the sunlit room. His black hair is rumpled from sleep, curls sticking up in all different directions. He looks soft, and Luke realizes he has never seen him like this, with sleep in his eyes surrounded by comfortable pillows. He’s beautiful in a way Luke never thought he’d see. Luke doesn't deserve to see this, but he drinks it in much like he would an alcoholic beverage. It’s not needed for survival and deadly if consumed in large portions or over time, but Luke will take that chance. Luke will continue to get fucked up on Ashton until it kills him. 

“No,” Ashton responds, shaking his head, and that word snaps Luke out of his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting it. Fucking is what they do. It’s what they know. It seems to be all their relationship is based on most days, so Ashton's refusal has to be a mistake. 

“No? What do you mean no?” Luke asks, but it’s not condescending. It’s a genuine question because he is so confused. Why would Ashton reject him? Maybe Ashton didn’t understand the request. He isn’t looking at him anymore, looking straight ahead at the wall. Ashton sighs loudly behind him, his hand leaving Luke’s hip to lay flat on the bed. Luke’s head is still resting on his other arm, trapping it. Luke turns over to face him, watching as Ashton rubs his eyes, the scruff on his cheeks moving with the motion. 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Luke. We have to be at your brother’s funeral in three hours. I’m not going to fuck you on the day you bury your brother,” Ashton responds with another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, not looking at Luke. 

“But I wanna forget, Ash. Please help me forget,” Luke murmurs, moving to straddle Ashton’s hips. He grinds their hard cocks together, leaning down to kiss Ashton’s collarbone. Ashton’s arms are fanned out to the side, which is odd, they are normally gripping Luke’s hips or thighs by now. That doesn’t deter Luke as he starts biting Ashton’s neck. 

“Luke, I’m sorry. I just-- I can’t,” Ashton responds, and Luke can feel himself pouting. 

“Please. Just a quickie or something. I need it, Ash. Please,” Luke whines, the scruff on Ashton’s neck scratching his jaw as he moves to bite Ashton’s ear. He feels two firm hands on his shoulders a moment later, pushing him away. 

“Luke. No. I’m not fucking you on the day of your brother’s funeral. Please. Stop,” Ashton says, his voice firmer now. Luke’s heart drops at the seriousness in Ashton’s tone of voice. He means it. Luke recoils from the sting, his body aching as if it was dealt a physical blow. He feels rejected by Ashton, the one person that has never rejected him. It hurts. 

“Fine. Can we at least get drunk, so I don’t have to remember this?” Luke asks, trying to cover up how hurt he actually is. Ashton looks like he is considering his question, and Luke pleads with his eyes. There is no way he will get through this day sober. If Ashton won’t get drunk with him, then Luke will just go back to his own place and get fucked up. Ashton knows this too, so Luke just waits for him to decide. 

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s shower first then we can do a couple of shots. I don’t want to get too fucked up, but something to take the edge off probably won’t hurt anything,” Ashton concedes, and Luke smiles at him, moving himself off of Ashton’s hips. They shower together, but Ashton keeps it all business despite Luke’s best attempts at seduction. He is doing everything he can to distract himself from the thoughts of his brother, and what is about to come in a few short hours. He doesn't want to think about it. He refuses to. He is tired of crying. He wants to forget, so distraction is key until he can use substances to really make him forget. 

When they finally start drinking, it’s bliss. The way the vodka burns as it goes down his esophagus is addicting. It makes him feel warm all over and almost giddy. This will definitely dull his senses. They don’t talk much as they drink, just do shots every few minutes until they have consumed too many to count. Ashton is definitely feeling the effects, his movements becoming more sloppy and uncoordinated. He almost spills some of the vodka when he pours their next shot. 

“What are you doing?” Ashton asks, when Luke gets up to find his coat that he had laid on the couch when he got there. 

“Grabbing something,” Luke responds, fumbling with the material for a solid minute before he is able to locate the left pocket. His fingers feel numb as he reaches inside, finding the bag of coke he had gotten from Cherry the day before and his kit. He turns around, finding Ashton staring at him with an unreadable expression. 

“Why do you need that?” Ashton asks, and Luke can tell he is upset. To anyone else, it would have seemed like a harmless question, but Luke can hear subtle anger between each syllable as it leaves his lips. He can register the small crease between Ashton’s brows telling him that something is off. Luke should proceed with caution, but fuck that. Maybe he can make Ashton angry enough to fuck him. 

“I told you. I want to forget,” Luke responds, the words slurred as he walks back to the kitchen island they had been drinking at. He sits back down on the stool, throwing the cocaine on the marble top as he does so. Ashton’s eyes watch the plastic baggy slide across the surface before he looks back up at Luke. “Want some?” Luke already knows what the answer will be. He has asked it before. Many times. The answer is always the same, but Luke still asks in the hopes that maybe he has changed his mind. 

“You know I don’t do cocaine,” Ashton responds, and no such luck. Ashton scrunches up his nose as if he smells a foul odor. As if he is completely disgusted by the fact that Luke uses it. He knows Ashton hasn’t always been happy about his habit, but he has never openly told him to stop. Luke automatically feels defensive, his hackles rising. 

“You could try it,” Luke says, bobbing his eyebrows playfully, trying to keep the mood light for now. He is still hurt by the rejection from before and now it just feels like Ashton is disgusted by him. Why does Ashton even bother keeping him around? Jesus fucking Christ, he isn’t even good for sex anymore. 

“No. I’m not trying it,” Ashton refuses, his voice still firm. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s addictive,” Ashton responds quickly, as if the answer is obvious. 

“So is alcohol yet you drink it,” Luke points out, gesturing to the empty shot glass that Ashton has begun refilling. Luke has lost count of how many they have had so far, and it hasn’t even been an hour. They are inching closer to Riley’s funeral, and Luke is starting to get a massive headache. It’s been far too long since his last bump, and he is itching for it. However he feels like he needs to get Ashton’s approval first. “Don’t be a fucking hypocrite.” 

“I’m not being a hypocrite. I know alcohol is addictive and is a drug as well. I’m not stupid. It’s not as addictive as something like cocaine, though,” Ashton says, gesturing to the bag on the counter between them. He raises the shot glass to his lips, tipping the liquid into his mouth a second later. Luke watches him swallow, a sudden desperate need to bite his Adam’s apple as it bobs. When he puts the shot glass down with a loud clang, making the most adorable face ever from the taste, Luke snaps out of it. 

“So what if it’s addictive. It doesn't do much worse to your body than booze,” Luke insists, shrugging his shoulders, and starts to pour himself another shot. Somewhere in the back of his drunk brain, he registers how ironic their argument is. They are talking about how all of these things are bad from them, but they continue to use them. The fact of the matter is, Luke doesn’t give a fuck if it’s bad for him because it feels too good. 

“Yes it fucking does! Look what happened to Riley,” Ashton says, his voice finally rising, and Luke freezes at the words. Ashton’s eyes widen, as if he didn’t mean to say them, but it’s too late to take them back. They are out in the world, and Luke heard them. Luke thanks the alcohol for making Ashton’s filter slip. He knows the other man would never say something like that sober. He would just keep it in his head. 

“Don’t fucking say that!” Luke screams, a pain shooting through his heart. Ashton flinches, but doesn't back away. He just doesn't want Ashton to say what Luke is thinking. He doesn't want to hear it come out of Ashton’s mouth. He doesn't need more disappointment from him. 

“Don’t say what? He died of an OD, Luke. He still had the fucking needle in his arm. I can’t…” Ashton’s words trail off, and Luke watches him take a deep breath. As if he has to physically stop himself from finishing the sentence. Luke wonders what he was going to say, but it’s too late now. He knows Ashton would never tell him. It’s locked in the fucking box with all of the other thoughts he doesn’t allow to reach the air. 

“He was getting fucked up on heroin. I don’t touch that stuff,” Luke responds, feeling as though it is a valid point. 

“He started with cocaine, too,” Ashton points out, looking down at the substance still sitting between them. Luke can feel himself getting angry, tears beginning to sting his eyes. 

Luke stands up from the stool, bracing his hands on the counter to lean towards Ashton. “You think I don’t know that? I know it’s my fault that he’s dead! Why do you think I’ve been so fucked up the last few days? My little brother is dead, and it’s completely my fault!” Luke yells, a single tear falls from his face, landing beside the bag of coke. Luke ignores it, preferring to watch Ashton’s expression which has fallen somewhat, before remembering to hide it. 

“How is it your fault that he’s dead?” Ashton asks, looking genuinely confused.

“Because I’m the one that got him addicted! I’m the one that got him to try cocaine, but he couldn’t afford it. He had to switch to something cheaper which so happened to be heroin. He would have never gotten addicted in the first place if it wasn’t for me though. I’m the reason he even fucking tried it, and I’m the reason he’s dead!” Luke yells, the words hurting his entire body as they are released from his vocal chords. It’s the truth, though. He may not have wanted to say it out loud, and his mother certainly didn’t want to face it, but it’s the fucking truth. 

“He made his own choices. You didn’t shove the fucking needle into his arm, Luke. You cannot blame yourself. He was going to get addicted anyway. You said yourself he was starting to go down the same path as you. He started stealing your Adderall when he was fourteen. You know it’s fucking true. Even if you hadn’t introduced him, he would have found it on his own, just like you did,” Ashton insists, and the fact that he isn’t yelling back at Luke is making him feel irrationally angry. Luke wants him to yell. He wants him to be mad because Luke is fucking mad. 

“All you ever fucking do is blame yourself for shit that isn’t your fault, but this is my fault yet you’re telling me not to blame myself. That’s real fucking rich, even coming form you, Ashton,” Luke says, and he knows it’s low. Ashton’s mouth gapes open in shock, but it’s the fucking truth. Ashton spends all of his life blaming himself for shit that is nowhere near his fault. Things he cannot control. Ashton doesn’t say anything, so Luke continues, “Now are you gonna fucking join me, or am I gonna get fucked up by myself?” 

“No. I’m not gonna join you. I don’t wanna do that to my body,” Ashton says, crossing his arms over his chest, and it makes Luke angrier, if possible. 

“Oh please. You don’t give a fuck about your body. You wouldn’t have put it through so much over the years if you did,” Luke replies, biting his tongue to stop himself from going further. He knows that Ashton knows what he is talking about. He can see it in his eyes, but he is just being a stubborn asshole right now. 

“I do care.” Ashton keeps his arms crossed over his chest, tightening them, making the muscles bulge. He looks sexy, still not wearing a shirt. Neither of them had put on clothes after their shower, deciding to just do shots in their underwear. Well, Luke borrowed a pair from Ashton. 

“You used to get the shit beat out of your every week,” Luke says, deadpan because Ashton very clearly is going to fight him on this. He knows that Ashton doesn’t mind his past being brought up, but he doesn't know why Ashton is acting like a fucking saint all of a sudden. He abuses his body more than Luke has abused his own. 

“I did that for money. You fucking know I didn’t have a choice. My mom needed help with the bills, so I did it for my family. Also I didn’t get the shit beat out of me. I’ve never lost a fight,” Ashton argues, puffing his chest out proudly with his last comment. Luke knows all of this, but he also knows Ashton is glossing over the more gory details. Luke has been with him during and after fights. He is usually pretty badly injured and bleeding from wounds. To say that he wasn’t beaten up is a huge understatement. 

Luke is so glad he is no longer fighting, though. His heart cannot handle the idea of Ashton getting seriously injured. He is lucky that he never got critically wounded, and Luke knew his luck could have run out in an instant. The high profile ones are to the death, and Ashton was slowly working his way up to those before he decided to stop. Those are the ones that pay the most money due to the risk. It makes Luke feel nauseated just thinking about it. He couldn’t stand on the sideline watching Ashton die at the hands of some random person. He refused. 

“What about the fact that you drink almost every night?” Luke asks, deciding to go a different direction. He doesn't want to give Ashton any ideas about rejoining his old life. He would rather not think or talk about it even though he is the one that had originally brought it up. Needing something to do with his hands, Luke grabs the bag of cocaine. He rips a piece of paper off the notebook Ashton has laying on the counter, probably using it to make a grocery list. 

“But I can stop whenever I want. It’s not a problem. Can you stop using coke?” Ashton asks, looking pointedly down at Luke’s hands while he begins to dump some of the substance onto the paper. Luke freezes, not expecting the question. He has asked himself the same thing several times, and always comes to the same conclusion. 

“If I wanted to,” Luke responds, shrugging his shoulders and grabbing the razor from his kit. He twirls it between his fingers, and Ashton’s eyes are on it in an instant. He isn’t going to let Ashton change the subject, though. They aren’t talking about Luke’s issues for once. They are talking about Ashton’s, and how he is a fucking hypocrite. “But you still abuse your body as much as I do, so don’t act like you don’t.” 

“I don’t,” Ashton responds shortly, and Luke is seconds away from losing his shit on him. He is far too drunk to be having this argument, but they are going to have it anyway it seems. Jesus fucking Christ, he just wanted to get fucked up before his brother’s funeral. He doesn’t need Ashton acting all high and mighty, like he is better than Luke. He is already better than him in every other possible way imaginable, and now he has to be better than him at this too. Fuck. He is so angry right now, he can barely see straight. It has nothing to do with the vodka either. 

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you tell that to the self inflicted scars on your arm?” Luke moves around the counter, grabbing Ashton’s arm and turning it over, bringing the white scars into the light. When he first met Ashton, the other boy covered them. He hasn’t done that in a few years now, wearing them like a badge, but it doesn't change what they represent. He still hurt himself, and it seems he needs a reminder of that. 

“I haven’t done that in years,” Ashton responds, looking down at his arm, making a fist. Luke feels the muscle flex under his fingertips. He can’t stop himself from tracing a thin white scar. He has traced them before, but they haven’t discussed them in detail. Ashton doesn't like to talk about his feelings, and Luke tries to respect that. It’s difficult sometimes because Luke feels as though he is a big ball of emotion all the damn time. Ashton obviously has feelings, deep enough to have given him need to self harm, but he refuses to acknowledge their existence. 

“Doesn't mean you don’t want to,” Luke says, realizing he still has the razor blade between his fingers. He holds it up between them, the light catching on the shiny metal, white dust along the edge. Ashton eyes it, but doesn’t say anything. Luke takes a deep breath, his heart beating rapidly with what he is about to say. “There is a reason why I took this from you. I know what you used to do with it. I know why you kept it. I took it because we both look at this the exact same way, but to serve different purposes. You use it to feel, and I use it to numb myself. It’s still a fucking blade, though. It still harms, but we still use it.” 

“The difference between you and me is that I don’t do that anymore, but you continue to use it,” Ashton insists, his tone icy, a direct contrast to the flames Luke feels in his veins. They are fire and ice. It’s no wonder they clash so much when they are together, creating nothing but steam. Steam is useless, though. It evaporates quickly, leaving nothing behind except for a bit of fog on some surfaces. Nothing to remember it by. Fire leaves destruction. Ice keeps everything in place, freezes it in time. Steam, though, steam does nothing. 

“God you’re such a fucking hypocrite! Just because you don’t cut anymore doesn’t mean you don’t _want_ to. I know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at this fucking blade when I use it. You stare at it as if it’s the answer to all your problems. If you hadn’t switched to fucking booze, you would have probably given in years ago. We are both fucked up; you’re just better at hiding it,” Luke slurs, yelling the words at Ashton while he grips the razor blade tightly in his fingers. 

Ashton just stares at him for a few long moments, but Luke has no idea what he’s thinking. Occasionally his hazel eyes will flicker to the object in Luke’s hand. Luke waits, his entire body feeling like it’s on the edge of something. Did he finally push Ashton to the point of yelling. Fuck he hopes so. He wants to be yelled at. He fucking deserves it. After a few more moments in their staring match, Ashton reaches out, words leaving his lips, “Give it to me.” 

“What? Why?” Luke asks, his head spinning from the request. Is Ashton going to try to take it from him so he can’t use cocaine anymore. Fuck no. Luke will not be letting that happen, even though he already finished chopping what he is planning to use into a fine powder. He is just glad his nose is no longer stuffed up. He really doesn’t want to switch to needles even though he has some. He has never used them before, but desperate times can call for desperate measures. 

“Because you’re right. Somedays I want to fucking bleed. I want to see that I’m alive, and that I’m human because sometimes I question it. Is that what you fucking want to hear?” Ashton’s voice breaks with his words, the first show of emotion yet. Luke hates himself for enjoying it. He also hates that he has to do this shit to get him to open up even for a second. Luke can see the tears in his eyes, and he bites his full bottom lip, clearly trying to stop himself from crying. It may not work. Luke can see the tremble in his jaw, a dead giveaway. 

“You are human, Ashton,” Luke says, softly, because he doesn’t know if he can actually handle Ashton crying. He’s not sure what to do with it. He knows he wanted this, but now that he is on the verge of getting it, he’s panicking. This is new territory for them. Ashton never cries. He never shatters, but he looks as though he is barely holding himself together right now, shiny hazel eyes staring at the blade still held between Luke’s fingers. 

“I don’t fucking want to be! If I have to hurt, I’d rather bleed. Then at least I can see the cause of the pain. At least there is something to blame other than myself. So give me the fucking blade.” Ashton’s voice is finally beginning to raise, but not quite a full on scream. It startles Luke to the point that he almost gives it to him. He almost does what he is told, but he forces himself not to. 

“No. I don’t wanna see you hurt yourself, Ashton. That’s not what I meant,” Luke amends as Ashton’s hand shoots up, grabbing at Luke’s wrist. If he wasn’t drunk, he probably would have caught it, but Luke pulls away at the last moment, holding it above his head and out of Ashton’s reach. Thank god he is taller than Ashton. He looks down, finding Ashton’s gaze heated. He looks angry, and it sends a chill up Luke’s spine. He has only seen Ashton truly angry a handful of times, and it is very scary. 

“I have to watch you hurt yourself every time you snort blow,” Ashton rebuts, and Luke pauses. Fuck. He didn’t think about it that way, but no. 

“That doesn't hurt me. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel fucking alive and happy,” Luke argues, bracing himself when Ashton grabs his arm, pulling hard, trying to get him to drop it so he can reach the blade. Ashton is strong, and Luke knows he won’t be able to hold him off for very long. Not while drunk. He knows he is being a bit of a hypocrite himself. Ashton said that cutting makes him feel alive, but Luke thinks it’s different. Luke feels alive and happy when he uses cocaine. Ashton just uses cutting to feel something. 

“It could!” Ashton yells, and it feels like he didn’t finish the sentence. Luke is startled by the actual sound of the words. Ashton just yelled at him. Holy shit. He must really be angry. Luke almost recoils. He almost gives Ashton what he wants. He can’t though. He can’t let him hurt himself. No. Fuck no. He just can’t. “Luke give me the fucking blade. I wanna feel things like you. I wanna understand. You’re fucking right. You chase being numb, and I chase feeling anything. So let me feel something for once! Give me the fucking blade! It’s mine! You stole it, so I want it back!” 

“I’m not giving it to you! I’m not letting you…” Luke’s sentence trails off when a shoulder slams into his ribcage. He wasn’t expecting the blow, and in his inebriated state, he doesn’t have a chance to really brace himself. He falls down to the ground with a groan, Ashton’s body landing on top of him, between his legs. In the next moment, Ashton is grabbing his wrist, pulling it to him. Luke tries to resist, but it’s futile. Ashton is so much stronger than him, and he is so fucking drunk. 

When Ashton manages to wrestle the blade from Luke’s hand, holding it up to the light triumphantly, Luke takes that moment to flip them. He is straddling Ashton in the next second, their cocks pressing together, their underwear serving as the only barrier. They are both breathing heavily, looking at each other as if waiting for one of them to make the next move. It’s Ashton that moves first, lifting himself up from the floor to crash his lips against Luke’s in a punishing kiss. 

His back is warm against Luke’s fingertips as he grips him roughly, opening his mouth to allow Ashton’s tongue entrance. Luke begins grinding on him, quickly working himself into a frenzy. Fuck. He has an idea, but he’s not sure Ashton will go for it. Ashton may just be drunk enough to do it though, so Luke breaks their kiss, Ashton’s mouth instantly biting his neck. Luke moans, the sensation better than anything he has felt in days. “Fuck. Ash, baby, please lemme…” Luke’s request is cut off by a moan, his cock painfully hard now. 

“Let you what?” Ashton asks, breathing heavily between kisses and bites. Luke’s eyes roll back in his head as he tries to concentrate on what he wants. What he is about to ask. It could either go really badly or it could be amazing. There is no in between. Luke really hopes it’s the latter because he doesn't want this to stop. This is what he has been wanting all morning. To feel something other than sadness and misery. Ashton seems to finally be willing to give him that. 

____________

“Lemme snort coke off your cock,” Luke whispers in Ashton’s ear, and Ashton freezes, a shiver going down his spine. He hates himself for being turned on by the request. He was just telling Luke he should stop. He was on the verge of telling him he has a problem, but now he is seriously considering the idea of allowing Luke to actually snort it off his body. Ashton is too drunk on the moment though to think differently, too caught up in Luke. The man is both his hell and his salvation. 

Ashton almost says no. If he does, he’s sure Luke wouldn’t ask again. Luke can be pushy sometimes, but never about something like this. He doesn’t ever push Ashton to do something he doesn’t really want to do. He may whine and pout if he doesn't get his way on unimportant matters but not this. Ashton knows he should say ‘no’. He knows that Luke probably shouldn’t go to his brother’s funeral drunk and high and well fucked, but the rational part of Ashton’s brain is gone. 

Luke bringing up Ashton’s old habits has brought to light the gaping hole in his heart. It has always been there, but Ashton usually just ignores it. It has been harder and harder to ignore lately with losing Louis, then Riley dying not even a full day later. Ashton is hurting too, and he is tired of not letting it show. The only way he knows how to show it, though, is by cutting himself or drinking himself into oblivion. Allowing his body to reflect the pain in his heart. 

He certainly can’t force himself to voice his pain. He can’t manage to say the words out loud. He can’t allow people to see him cry, so he cries alone in the shower where no one can see his tears, not even himself. He bites his tongue on the words that threaten to tumble from his lips, words of weakness. He’s strong. He has to be strong for Luke, for everyone around him, so he continues to suffer in silence. Cutting himself is still silent, but it’s also loud. He needs to feel something right now, and Luke’s suggestion makes him feel, therefore he finds himself nodding. 

“Do it,” Ashton responds, and a look of pure shock crosses Luke’s face, then he is scrambling up from his position on the floor. Ashton briefly considers going to the bedroom but decides he doesn’t give a fuck, and he doesn’t want to move. It’s then that he notices he is still holding the blade between his fingers. It’s warm now, and Ashton can see the white marks of coke along the edge. He briefly considers wiping it off and taking it to his arm. If Luke can be numb, then Ashton should be allowed to feel. He doesn't though because his cock is hard and maybe he will be able to feel in a different way. 

Luke doesn’t say anything when he is leaning over Ashton, the paper with the coke on it balanced carefully in his hand. Ashton can see the crease where Luke had folded it, probably making it easier to create a line on the surface of Ashton’s skin. In his other hand, he is holding his straw, and he seems to have removed his own underwear along the way. His blond curls are messy, and the blue of his eyes are almost completely gone, replaced with black. He looks fucked out and so hot, Ashton can’t stop himself from moaning at the sight. 

“Take off your underwear babe,” Luke says, looking at Ashton’s tight briefs with hungry eyes. Ashton quickly does as he requests, lifting his hips off the floor to slip them off in one swift movement. Somewhere in the back of Ashton’s drunk brain, he registers that this is a bad idea. That Luke’s brother’s funeral starts in like an hour, and they really shouldn’t be doing this, but at the same time he simply doesn't give a fuck. He lost all of his fucks this morning when he realized that Luke was right in what he said. Ashton looks at a blade the same way Luke looks at his coke. 

Ashton watches Luke bend over him, studying his body. Ashton suddenly feels self conscious, moving his hands over the little bit of fat on his lower abdomen. Luke slaps them away, kissing his belly button after doing so. Luke is looking at him as if he is the most beautiful person he has ever seen, and Ashton isn’t sure what to do with that. He tries to hold still as Luke begins pouring lines of the white powder onto his skin. He places a line on Ashton’s right hip, another on his left, a long one down Ashton’s sternum onto his stomach, then a final one going down his shaft. Ashton tries to normalize his breathing, telling himself to fight against all of his instincts and not move. 

“Fuck. You look so fucking hot like this. Shit,” Luke murmurs, eyes raking over Ashton’s body. It’s almost as if he didn’t mean to say it, like Ashton isn’t supposed to hear it. Ashton closes his eyes, trying to keep his breathing regular and silently telling his hard dick not to twitch. If it twitches, then Ashton is going to have cocaine all over him. When he opens his eyes again, it is just in time to see Luke lean over his right hip with his straw up to his nose. The sensation tickles, and Ashton tries not to giggle or pull away from it. Luke makes quick work of doing the line laid out on his left hip. 

Luke repositions himself on Ashton’s side, the straw gliding over his sternum a moment later. It tickles, and Ashton has to resist the urge to laugh and squirm under the metal straw lightly grazing his skin. It feels like it takes days for Luke to make his way down Ashton’s torso, snorting another line through his straw. Ashton is incredibly turned on watching him, and a little impressed that he was able to do so much in one go. He is too drunk to think about what that means, and just continues to silently watch him with heavily lidded eyes.

Luke moves to Ashton’s dick, licking his lips and hovering over it. Ashton moans, fisting his hands in an attempt to stop himself from grabbing Luke’s hair and pushing him down. He moans again when Luke positions the straw to his nose, leaning forward a bit more as he begins snorting the white substance off of Ashton’s hard cock. Half way through, Ashton’s shaft twitches, and he can feel the straw poking his skin, but Luke just continues until the line is gone, leaving behind a little bit of white residue. Fuck. 

“What are you doing?” Ashton asks, his words slurred and his voice so deep, he barely recognizes it. Luke has sat his straw down and is leaning over him again, and Ashton is slightly confused. 

“Don’t wanna waste it,” Luke mumbles before beginning to lick Ashton’s sternum. His tongue is so hot, it feels as though it is searing Ashton’s flesh off of his bones. He bucks into it, his breath caught in his lungs. Luke licks his hips next, sucking and biting on the bones that are jutting out under the little bit of fleshy fat. Next, Luke stares at his dick. Ashton moans again, this time giving into his urge and fisting Luke’s hair, pushing his head down. Luke goes easily, swallowing him down a few seconds later. 

“Fuck, Luke. Yeah get it all. Get me nice and wet so I can fuck you. Need to fuck you so hard. Shit,” Ashton says as he watches Luke’s head bob on his dick. He knows he won’t suck for long because his jaw will start clenching soon, so Ashton just watches, moaning every time Luke takes him deep. Luke’s lips are dusty pink and wet, wrapped around his shaft, and Ashton doesn't want him to stop. He can already feel the pool of heat behind his navel, though. 

He grips Luke’s hair again, forcing the man’s head down until he can feel his nose pressing against his balls. He holds him for a few seconds, Luke gagging and trying to pull away. Ashton pulls his hair hard, Luke releasing his dick with an audible pop as he sucks in air. Ashton barely gives him a moment to breathe, sitting up and kissing him. They don’t kiss very often, which tells Ashton exactly how fucked up they are right now. He doesn’t fucking care, though. He just wants to feel him, to feel this. He doesn’t give a fuck about their unspoken rules or their current fucked up life. 

“Fuck me, Ashton. Now. Fuck me now. Please,” Luke begs, the words moving against Ashton’s lips. 

“Let me go get the lube,” Ashton says, pulling away from Luke and bracing himself to start standing. Luke stops him though, gripping his shoulder hard and hanging on so Ashton can’t move any further. 

“No. Just fuck me. I’ll be fine. Use spit or something. Want it to hurt. Please. I’ll be okay. Please. Need to feel it,” Luke pleads, his eyes wide and his voice taking on an hysterical edge. Against his better judgement, Ashton finds himself nodding. He gets up on his knees, manhandling Luke until he is laying down, his long limbs splayed beneath Ashton like an offering. Ashton fully intends on taking it. 

They don’t have a lot of time, the minutes until Riley’s funeral ticking closer, but Ashton pushes that out of his mind, trying to not think about the guilt he feels for doing this. Fuck. He doesn't know how they always end up here, but he doesn’t fucking care right now. His brain is too foggy from the booze and Luke’s scent to even think straight, all thoughts replaced by the idea of fucking Luke until he’s crying. 

He spits onto two fingers, rubbing them around Luke’s hole, the other man moaning at the contact. He spits again, this time pressing inside with two fingers. Luke screams, and Ashton isn’t sure if it’s pain or pleasure. He doesn't really care because a very fucked up part of him wants to punish Luke for talking him into something he didn’t want to do in the first place. The logical voice in his head is telling him that it’s completely untrue. Ashton could have said no, and he is the one that initiated it this time. Still, Ashton didn’t get his way. He didn’t get to use the blade how he wanted to, so he is feeling a tad bit resentful. 

“Just fuck me already Ashton. Please. I don’t care if I fucking bleed. Need you in me,” Luke whines, and Ashton wastes no time doing as requested. He uses more spit, coating his dick in it, then he is pushing himself up. He traces Luke’s hole with a wet finger, then presses in. He watches Luke’s reaction, wanting to make sure that he isn’t doing any actual damage. Luke's eyes are scrunched shut, his breathing becoming more labored with each inch Ashton sinks into him. He is griping the back of his thighs so tightly, his knuckles are turning white and there are red marks on his milky skin. 

“Luke. Fuck. You’re so tight. Don’t wanna hurt you. Shit,” Ashton moans, halfway in but afraid he is going to hurt the man below him so he stops. His body is screaming at him to continue, but his brain is telling him to give Luke a moment to adjust to the sensation. Ashton doesn’t bottom often, or ever really, but he couldn’t imagine how it would feel without lube. They’ve done without before though, and it was fine. 

“Ashton keep going. Please. Need it. Don’t care if it hurts. Fuck me.” Luke releases his thighs, grabbing Ashton’s hips in the next moment. Before Ashton can resist, Luke is pulling him, his tight hole tightening around Ashton’s dick like a vice, threatening to cut off his circulation. Ashton releases a deep moan, not resisting Luke in the slightest, allowing Luke to pull him in deeper. He doesn't care if he loses circulation in his dick because that means he will be buried in Luke’s tight heat forever. 

“Holy fuck. Oh my god,” Luke screams when Ashton is fully seated, gripping Ashton’s hips so hard, he will surely bruise. Ashton barely feels it, though. He is too busy drinking in Luke’s features. The way his large mouth is open in shock. He isn’t sure if it’s from the pain or the pleasure, but he is beyond caring because he is gritting his teeth trying to force himself not to buck into Luke’s tight heat. He braces himself above Luke with one hand, spitting onto the fingers of his now freehand to add more lubrication. Holy hell, though. He feels like he is seconds away from coming, and they’ve barely gotten started. 

“Fuck. Luke. Shit. So tight,” Ashton rambles, his brain not being able to come up with any other words. He just can’t think right now. He tries to give Luke a moment to adjust, but the other man is simply not having it. He digs his fingers into Ashton’s hips again, and begins guiding him in and out, hard and fast. Ashton’s eyes go wide at the sudden sensation, his breath hitching in his throat before he gets the idea and takes over the movement, Luke’s hands now only hanging on as Ashton pounds into him relentlessly. 

“So deep. Oh my fuck. So fucking deep, Ash. Yeah. Fuck.” With each word, Luke’s cries get louder and louder, until he is screaming and moaning beneath Ashton. If Luke keeps talking, Ashton is going to come. He just can’t handle his high pitched whiny words without them sending him over the edge, so Ashton shuts him up. He grabs his face with his free hand, shoving two fingers deep into his mouth, down his throat. Luke gags for a few seconds before he breathes shallowly through his nose, and wraps his obscene lips around Ashton’s fingers, sucking hard. 

“You’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” Ashton asks, his brain to mouth filter almost completely gone. Luke doesn't answer, he can’t, so he just looks up at Ashton with big blue eyes, and nods, taking the fingers in his mouth deeper with the movement. He’s fucking obscene, and it is completely unfair. Ashton is too drunk for this, too fucked up, but he is going to continue doing it because it’s his one moment of feeling good among all of the other shit. 

“You’d let anyone fuck you just so you could feel full. I know it. Doesn't have to be me,” Ashton says, his hips moving harder, and Luke reaches his arms up to brace himself against the base of the island. Ashton’s knees are burning, the unforgiving floor below them, but he barely feels it. He is chasing his own kind of high, and that is in the form of Luke Hemmings wrapped around his dick. Luke’s eyes widen with Ashton’s statement, and he tries to talk, but Ashton shoves his fingers deeper, so Luke settles for shaking his head furiously. 

“Don’t fucking lie. I know you’d take anything you could get, especially if it means you get some blow with it. Right? Fuck anything with a pulse if you could chase your high.” Ashton knows the words are harsh. The logical, non intoxicated part of his brain feels bad for saying it as soon as they leave his mouth, but they are fucking true. Luke fucks Cherry so he can get high. This is a fact. Ashton normally wouldn’t say it, but he’s drunk and sad, and he just lost all his fucks. 

“Ash,” Luke gets out around Ashton’s fingers as he shakes his head again. His blue eyes are shiny, and Ashton can tell he is seconds away from crying. He blinks twice, a tear escaping a moment later. Ashton isn’t sure if it was from his words or the fact that he is still gagging him with two fingers. Luke is moaning though, so it can’t be all that bad. 

“You wanna talk baby? You wanna lie to me some more?” Ashton asks, removing his fingers and watching Luke take a deep breath then another, his chest heaving his back off the floor. He only did it so he could get better leverage. He hooks his arms under Luke’s legs, bending him in half as he continues pistoning his hips. He is getting sloppy now, closer to coming with every thrust. He almost wants Luke to lie to him. He wants him to say he’s the only one, and he always will be. He wants Luke to lie and say he loves him, but it will be just that. A fucking lie. 

“Please. Fuck. Close. Please,” Luke moans, trailing his hand down his own body before it comes to land on his dick. Ashton shakes his head in warning, but Luke just bites his lips and grips his hard dick in his hand. Ashton watches, more sparks of arousal traveling through his entire body. He shakes himself out of it, not pausing his movements to slap Luke’s hand away. It’s a damn miracle given how drunk Ashton is, but he has gotten used to functioning while drunk. It’s become second nature. 

“No. You’re coming untouched,” Ashton orders, and Luke nods, biting his lip hard. Ashton wants to kiss it but decides against it, going back to their unspoken rules that just makes everything easier for Ashton’s sanity. He has feelings for Luke. A lot of feelings. He is in love with the man, but Luke doesn't love him back. That’s very clear. Luke loves his drugs, and that’s it. Ashton isn’t saying anything out loud because that only serves to solidify his feelings and make them seem more real. Ashton is just going to continue pretending that they aren’t real though. 

“Close. Just keep fucking. Please.” Luke’s words are slurred and his hole tightens around Ashton’s dick. Ashton isn’t even sure if what he is saying is actual words anymore. Ashton keeps fucking into him, at an unforgiving pace. 

“Come on, slut. Come for me,” Ashton growls, and that’s what does it. Luke’s hole clamps around his dick like a vice, squeezing it. Ashton almost comes from the sensation, but manages to hold off, watching Luke’s untouched dick twitch between them, strings of come coating his stomach a moment later. Luke is screaming, his breath stopping in his chest completely. Ashton is pretty sure he can feel Luke’s erratic heartbeat through his ass, and holy shit. Everything is so hot. 

“Ashton please. Keep going. Come in me. Need it. Need your come,” Luke says, finally catching a breath. Ashton wasn’t planning on stopping, though, so he just sustains at the same erratic pace. Luke continues to scream obscenities, the tone of his voice sending Ashton closer and closer to the brink. He can feel the tight pull of pleasure behind his navel. His legs are twitching, the muscles in his arms beginning to cramp from exertion, but he keeps going because holy fucking shit, no one can stop him from fucking Luke. He comes hard a moment later, stars and all that other shit erupting behind his eyes, with Luke’s high pitched whines serving as a backdrop. 

He collapses on top of Luke, both catching their breath for a moment. Ashton looks at the clock on the microwave, groaning with what it reads. Fuck. They are going to be late. “Baby, we have to get up. We have to get a car and go to umm… yeah… go there,” Ashton finishes, lamley, almost afraid to bring it up. Luke just nods, but he doesn't cry. He doesn’t really react at all, and Ashton knows it’s because he is still fucked up. They stand up carefully, Ashton groaning at the pain in his knees. 

Ashton helps Luke get dressed, wearing some of Ashton’s clothes that are somewhat funeral appropriate. Neither of them are the suit and tie type of guys. Luke’s mom isn’t going to be very happy, but there is nothing they can do to change it. They are both quiet as they wait for the car Ashton called. Ashton just doesn't know what to say, so he holds Luke’s hand and hopes that’s somehow enough. He can’t give him the comfort he needs because Ashton simply doesn’t know how. 

________

**_Tuesday Morning…._ **

“What are you making, Li?” Harry asks, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes as he follows Louis into the kitchen, the aroma of something sweet filling the air. Harry is still sore from their swim to safety, and they barely got any sleep the night before. Lottie had arrived with Louis right on time, but she was so distraught by the whole ordeal, they barely got any more relevant information out of her. Harry hopes that the light shed on a new day may help. 

“French toast. I asked Lottie what she wanted, and that’s what she said. I hope it’s good. It was my mom’s recipe,” Liam answers, turning around to look at them. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants and a too tight shirt. They really need to do some shopping. They can’t continue living in borrowed clothes. 

“Sorry if that’s not what everyone else wants,” comes Lottie’s voice, and she was being so quiet Harry hadn’t realized she was there. She is sitting at the small table with Niall, but they aren’t really talking. They are both nursing a cup of coffee. Lottie’s eyes are red, her skin dry, as if she has been crying all night. Harry feels sorry for her. He couldn’t imagine how she is feeling right now. He would be distraught if Gemma had been kidnapped by a mad man. 

“It’s fine, love,” Louis says, smiling at her kindly. She returns it, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Harry doesn't even know what time it is, but it seems like it may be midmorning judging by the sun. 

“I called Poppy’s school and told them that she has the flu. That should buy us a week. Thank God I don’t have CPS breathing down my neck anymore,” Lottie tells them, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“CPS? Why were they breathing down your neck?” Louis asks, his brows creased in concern. Harry isn’t sure what CPS is. Louis must sense Harry’s confusion because he turns to him and says, “Child Protective Services. They step in if a child is living in unfit conditions.” Oh. Now Harry understands. 

“No reason in particular. After mom died, and I got custody of Poppy, I had to go through all of these classes and was assigned a caseworker. CPS is always involved in situations like that. I had to prove that I could parent her appropriately even though I’m so young, so they were watching my every move for a while. They’ve left me alone for the past year or so,” she explains, and Harry has a lot of questions. He bites his lip though because it’s not his place to ask. 

“When did mom die?” Louis asks, and Harry freezes. It is the same question on the tip of Harry’s tongue. He glances at Louis, noting that he seems to be okay with the conversation so far. He is ready to offer comfort though as soon as the other man needs it. 

“Three years ago. I had just turned 18,” Lottie responds, her voice sad as she looks down at her coffee. 

“How? Was it sudden or?” Louis asks next. Harry can hear the slight panic in his voice, his breath hitching with the questions. He reaches under the table, placing a hand on Louis’ knee. It immediately stops moving, the jogging motion ceasing. 

“No. She had breast cancer. She found a lump when I was fifteen. It was stage three by the time they caught it. We were all so scared, but she put on a brave face for us. Poppy was pretty young, so she didn’t really understand what was happening, why mommy was so sick all the time and why she was losing her hair. Eventually the cancer spread to her bones and nothing could be done,” Lottie explains, a tear tracking down her face. Harry glances over to find Louis’ eyes shiny, his own tears threatening to break away from their ducts. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Lottie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help you. Fuck,” Louis says, his voice wavering. He sniffles, his bottom lip trembling, and Harry can tell he is seconds away from crying. He moves his hand away from Louis’ knee to the table, finding Louis’ hand a moment later, squeezing. Lottie watches them curiously, but she doesn’t say anything. Harry hasn’t really been formally introduced to her, but now is hardly the time. 

“Lou, it’s not your fault. Mom tried to find you before she died, but she didn’t even know where to start. She said she kept an eye on the obituaries every week, scared to death that she would find your picture. We googled you, but found nothing. She was going to hire a private investigator, but then she got the cancer diagnosis and our world just sort of stopped moving. All of the money she had was going to medical bills. I’m still paying them off,” Lottie says. 

“Didn’t she have health insurance?” Harry asks, and he immediately regrets the questions, the blue eyes of the siblings both snapping in his direction. Louis gives him a small smile, letting him know he isn’t upset at him for interrupting their conversation. Harry still wishes he didn’t, but he let his curiosity get the best of him. He shouldn’t even be included in a conversation as intimate as this. “Umm-- Forget I asked. It’s none of my business. I’m going to help Liam.” 

“Harry, please don’t leave. It’s fine. I’m sure Lottie doesn’t mind your question. I want you here, please” Louis says, as Harry begins to stand from the table. Harry looks down to find Louis’ eyes pleading, a silent ‘I need you’ written all over his features. Louis’ hand is gripping his, and Harry sits back down, deciding to stay. Louis wants him to stay for this, and Harry isn’t exactly sure what that means. It’s a personal conversation, but Louis wants Harry beside him. Harry knows deep down, he will always stay next to Louis. 

“It’s fine. She had health insurance, but it barely made a dent. At first, she refused to get treatment because of the financial strain she knew it would place on our family, but I talked her into it. I told her that Poppy and I needed her to fight, so she did. She fought until the last day, but she lost. She was right. It’s a huge strain. I put all of her life insurance towards the expenses, but there is still some left.” Harry’s head is spinning with the information, and he wants to ask more questions however now is not the time.

He just never realized how fucked up the health insurance situation is in America. He has heard about it, seen articles, but he ignored them. He just figured those articles were about people who didn’t have insurance, not people who worked their entire lives only to have the misfortune of getting a very deadly disease. The fact that their mom had originally refused treatment because of the fear of having medical bills is heartbreaking. Harry’s family could probably pay them off in an instant. 

“What about Dad? Where was he in all of this?” Louis asks, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. He makes a promise to himself to pay off all of Jay’s medical bills if he ever has access to his money again. He doesn't know if he will, but he tries not to think about how much his life has changed in the past few days. It makes him panic with uncertainty. Not thinking about it seems to be the only thing that keeps the distress away. 

“Oh Mark? When I was about ten or eleven, mom found out he had been cheating on her for years. He had a different life and a different family with this younger woman. They had two kids when mom found out, both boys. He was practically leading this second life, and none of us knew anything about it.” Lottie’s voice is angry now, harsh consonants replacing soft, sad vowels. 

“What the fuck? How did she find out?” Louis asks, and Harry can tell he is angry, too. 

“He fucked up and accidently had his son’s dentist bill sent to the wrong address. They used the address on his driver’s license, and he didn’t realize it. Mom found the bill, and asked him about it,” Lottie answers. Louis’ dad sounds like a dumbass, but Harry had already known that. He decided it when the fuckwad kicked his son out of the house for being gay. 

“Shit. Then what happened?” Louis is on the edge of his seat, literally, the fingers on his free hand drumming on the table. Harry is curious too, the story unfolding before his very eyes. 

“At first he lied about it. Said it was a mistake, but mom had already called the dentist office in her confusion. They confirmed that Mark was the father of the boy on the bill. After that, he started screaming at her, saying all this shit about how she never fulfilled what he needed in a wife. All she gave him was a defective son and two daughters. He was horrible, then he started beating the shit out of her. I called the cops. They came and arrested him for domestic violence, but mom decided not to file charges. We never saw him again.” Harry feels sick with the conclusion of the story, but he isn’t sure it’s the end. 

“Didn’t they call him when Mom died?” Louis asks, and Harry was wondering the same thing. Mark would have been the first logical step in finding care for Poppy. 

“Yeah. They asked me to contact him. I did because I was young and scared. He basically told me that he is currently with his only family, and pretended he didn’t know who I was or who mom was,” Lottie spits. Anger. Pure white hot anger is now filling Harry’s veins. What the fuck. Mark is a piece of shit. Harry balls his free hand into a fist, imagining that this man’s neck is under his fingers. Harry doesn't know what has gotten into him. He has never been one for violence, but after seeing the horrors of the world over the past week, he has decided that maybe some people deserve it. Like fathers who don’t care for their children. 

“You’re sure it was him?” Harry asks, through gritted teeth. Louis releases their hands, stroking Harry’s thumb in a soothing manner. It sort of helps, but Harry still wants to find Mark Tomlinson and beat him like he did his wife and kids. Fuck. Harry doesn't know how to fight though. Maybe Louis can teach him. 

“Yeah. I’m positive. The fucking bastard didn’t even change his phone number after he left. He just kicked mom off the plan. I also know his voice. It was him. He even answered the phone with ‘Mark Tomlinson speaking’ as if he’s important,” Lottie scoffs, obviously still hurt by her father’s actions. Harry doesn't blame her. He’s hurt too, and he wasn’t even a part of it. 

“What a fucking pieceof shit,” Niall chimes in, taking the words right out of Harry’s mouth. Harry had almost forgotten the other man was sitting at the table with them, being uncharastically quiet as they talked. Harry nods his agreement though, and Louis chuckles, breaking the tension. 

“He really is. Anyways, since he was a dead end, I asked to have custody of Poppy. I am her only living relative at this point, well except for you, but I had no idea how to find you. Then of course Dad, with his response, was out of the equation, so I petitioned. The court granted it, so she has been living under my care ever since. The first year was rough. She acted out a lot, but we got through it. It still isn’t easy. I work a lot which leaves her to her own devices more than I’d like sometimes. She's a good kid, though,” Lottie adds, as if she is worried they would think otherwise. 

“That’s good. I can’t wait to meet her,” Louis says with a smile, and Harry can tell he is just saying it to sound positive. Like Louis knows he will meet her, but Harry knows him well enough by now. It's the inflection between words in the sentence that tells Harry everything he needs to know about Louis’ thoughts. He’s still unsure it will happen. He is still doubting his abilities to recover his sister. 

“Speaking of, did you ever get a hold of Ash?” Niall asks, but is interrupted by the sound of Louis’ phone ringing, as if on cue. 

“That could be him from his backup phone,” Louis says, his voice laced with excitement as he picks it up. He answers, putting it on speaker so all present can hear. Liam turns around from his task of plating their breakfast, giving the phone his undivided attention. 

“Hello,” Louis answers, sitting the phone down on the table, as if his limbs are shaking too much to hold it. 

“Is this Louis Tomlinson?” Comes a female voice, and Harry freezes. It sounds familiar, but he just can’t seem to place it. It is definitely not Ashton. He glances over at Louis, but he seems to be just as confused as the other people in the room. No one seems to recognize the voice on the other end of the phone. Dread shoots through Harry. Something is off. It has to be. Is this person working for Simon? Are they tracking Louis’ phone as they speak? 

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” Louis asks, ignoring the initial question. 

“Money is a terrible master but an excellent servant,” she says, and that quote. A chill runs down Harry’s spine. It’s a quote from P.T Barnum, and he’s heard it before. He has heard it often, spoken by the very same voice. 

“Mom?” Harry asks, and everybody in the room looks at him. Harry is just as shocked as they are. 

“Oh Harry. I was hoping you were with him,” Anne says, and Harry can’t believe it. What the fuck? How did his mom get Louis’ number? Why is she calling? Does she know that he killed his father? So many questions are running through Harry’s head a mile a minute, but he doesn't ask her any of them, too shocked by the turn of events. 

“What do you want?” Louis’ voice is strong, unwavering as the question that everyone wants an answer to is released from his vocal chords. 

“I want you and Harry to come see me for a late lunch. How does 2 pm sound?” She asks, and it’s so casual, Harry’s head is spinning. What the actual fuck? 

“How do we know it’s not a trap?” Louis appears apprehensive, and Harry can understand why. He hasn’t heard from his mom in a few months, so this is just as strange for him. He thinks they can trust her though, but he doesn’t know for sure. She was married to a mob boss, afterall. 

“You’ll just have to trust me. 2 pm. Go to Le Ciel du Quai, and give the attendant my name. We will have a table in the back of the restaurant. Bring Mr. Horan with you, if you’d like,” she instructs, then the line goes dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes... I know... I will start dodging objects now! But seriously, how do you feel about Lashton? Have I won you over? lol


	6. Before You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton and Luke go to Riley's funeral while Harry and Louis go to lunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... again… I must warn you. This chapter has very explicit depictions of intravenous drug use. If this bothers you, please proceed with caution. If you want to talk about it, please feel free to DM me on Twitter or Tumblr
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_So, before you go  
_ _Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?  
_ _If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather  
_ _So, before you go  
_ Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?  
_It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless  
So, before you go- Lewis Capaldi _

**_Tuesday afternoon….._ **

Luke and Ashton arrive at the funeral a little late, so they sit in the back. Luke can hear his mom crying from their seat, even though she is sitting in the front of the church, his dad with his arms wrapped around her. Luke almost walks up and joins them, but he doesn't think he can bring himself to do so. The pain in his chest is just too much for him to bear. All he can do is stare up at the casket, thinking about the person who is inside. It’s not even a person anymore, just the remnants of one, flesh and bones with no life. Riley has no life anymore, and Luke knows it’s his fault. 

Ashton holds Luke’s hand the entire service, and for that, Luke is thankful. Luke’s knuckles are white and his hand is cramping, but he holds onto Ashton like his life depends on it. It kind of does. He spends the entire time silently crying, listening as various people walk up to the pulpit to talk about Riley and say their goodbyes. Luke should be up there, but he is too choked on the lump in his throat. His chest is aching too much for breath right now. He is still too high and drunk to string together sentences. 

After the short service, Luke forces himself to stand up on shaky legs. He has a horrible headache, the drugs and alcohol in his system beginning to wear off. Luke squints when they step outside into the sunlight, barely suppressing a hiss of pain. Ashton doesn't look like he is faring much better, but Ashton has a higher alcohol tolerance than Luke. He was probably not that drunk to begin with, especially after their bout of rough sex that Luke can still feel. 

They ride with Luke’s cousin and his wife to the burial site, the long line of cars moving so slowly. Luke feels like he is about to jump out of his skin. Ashton’s leg is jogging beside him, and Luke reaches down to place a hand on his knee. Ashton stops moving immediately, giving him a small, sad smile. Luke keeps his hand there, as he makes small talk with his relative. He feels like he is being smothered though, the sad pauses between sentences acting as a pillow over his face. 

They finally arrive at the cemetery, but the fresh air does nothing to soothe his aching body, memories of his brother flash through his mind as more tears spring to his eyes. When they were younger, Luke taught Riley a few curse words. Their mom grounded him for using them, and he was mad at Luke for a week. As a way to gain forgiveness, Luke taught him to say a few choice curse words in a way that wouldn’t get him in trouble. Anytime he got mad at something, he would say ‘beaver dam it’. Their mom would get so mad, but he quickly pointed out that he was referring to a beaver dam and not the curse word. Luke can almost hear the ghost of Riley’s laugh bouncing off the tombstones. 

Maybe he had always been a bad influence on Riley. He had been leading him down this path for as long as he can remember, and Luke can’t help but think that it should have been him. It should be him in that casket, making a final home 6 feet under the earth. It should be him that was wiped from existence. It should be him, haunting his loved ones memories. Not Riley. Riley was just an innocent bystander in Luke’s self-destructive behavior. 

“We missed you at the viewing last night,” a feminine voice says, and somewhere in the back of Luke’s mind, he registers that the disembodied voice is talking to him. He feels a large hand wrap around his bicep, anchoring him back into reality. He blinks a few times, the familiar face of his mother coming into focus. He looks down, finding that it is Ashton’s hand that is wrapped around his arm. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I was umm… busy,” Luke responds, dumbly. His mom stares at him through squinted eyes, as if she doesn't believe him. He doesn’t really care. He should feel bad for disappointing her, but he doesn't. For once in his life, he doesn't feel anything. He blinks back tears, trying to breathe slowly but his nose is too stuffed up. He just wants to get away from all of this and forget. 

“I’m sure you were. Who’s your friend?” She asks, looking at Ashton as if she smells something rancid. 

“You’ve met Ashton. Like… at least a dozen times. Why do you always do that?” Luke asks, starting to get annoyed with her already. He loves his mom, but no one annoys him the way she does. 

“Do what, honey? I'm an old woman. I forget things,” she responds, but it’s a lie. She knows exactly who Ashton is; she just doesn't like him. She calls him a lowlife, and says he should make better friends. She doesn't know the nature of their relationships, but then again, neither does Luke. Ashton has painfully reminded him that they aren’t even together.

“You literally just talked to him on the phone the other day,” Luke points out, rolling his eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am, that was me. Sorry if I forgot to introduce myself in the stress of the situation,” Ashton pipes in, smiling at Luke’s mother. Luke sees his dad coming up from behind them, a man and a woman that Luke doesn't recognize trailing behind him. 

“Oh Luke. You remember Sally and Russel Adkinson!” She exclaims, her voice far too cheery for the current situation. Luke can see that they are still lowering his brother’s casket into the ground and his mom is making small talk. 

“Can’t say I do,” Luke responds honestly. 

“Yes you do! You met them when you were young. They came to your fifth birthday party,” she responds, and how the fuck is Luke supposed to remember that? He smiles at them politely, nodding his head in greeting. 

“This is Luke and his friend Anthony.” 

“Ashton,” Luke corrects through gritted teeth. He knows she does this shit on purpose, and it’s beginning to grate on his nerves, making his headache even worse. 

“It’s nice to see you. You’re a lot taller than I remember,” Russel says, with a chuckle, as if it’s the most clever joke he has ever come up with. Luke barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. 

“Kate,” Sally starts, addressing his mom, “Before we leave, we just want to offer our condolences one more time. It’s so sad to lose someone at such a young age. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Her voice is soft, dark eyes shiny with tears. Luke bows his head, trying not to cry again. He feels Ashton’s warm hand on his back, rubbing it in a comforting gesture. 

“Yes. We are all so devastated,” Kate responds, using a tissue to soak up some tears. 

“If you don’t mind us asking, how did he die?” Russel questions, his voice hesitant but curious. Luke does mind. It’s rude to fucking ask how someone died while you are currently at their funeral. 

“His heart stopped suddenly. Heart attack,” his mom supplies, and what the fuck? Yeah, Luke supposes that’s the technical term for what happened but, no. 

“Oh my god. But he was so young. Did he have a heart condition that you didn’t know about?” Sally asks, her eyes wide in surprise, hand coming up to clutch at her chest. Luke scoffs at her assumption, and his mom glares at him. 

“The doctor’s aren’t sure. They think he may have,” Kate answers, and Luke is angry now. What the fuck? His mom knows how Riley died. She knows he OD’d so why is she acting like she doesn’t? Oh yes because she thinks she is too good to have a son that was addicted to drugs. It may shame her in some way. Luke is angry, so fucking angry. His head is throbbing and his mom is acting like some holier-than-thou woman at his brother’s funeral. 

“Oh please,” Luke pipes up, not being able to hold his tongue any longer. 

“Luke…” his mom says in warning, but he ignores her. 

“You know he died of an OD,” Luke says, then he turns to Russel and Sally. They look alarmed by his outburst, mouths hanging open in shock. “Heroin. He had been using it for a while. He picked up his drug habit from me. I don’t do heroin, but that’s because I’m a part of a criminal organization so I can support my cocaine addiction.” 

Luke glances at his mom’s shocked face before he turns on his heel and walks away, limbs shaking with adrenaline. He knows he probably shouldn’t have said that. His mom thinks he works in IT. She had no idea what he actually did, but he is just so fucking angry with her. He wanted to hurt her in the way that she hurt him by lying to her friends to save her reputation. She probably won’t believe him anyways. She has always been more of an ‘ignorance is bliss’ kind of person. 

He needs to get the fuck away from here. He hears Ashton mumble something, but he doesn't turn around. He starts running, trying to make sure Ashton doesn't catch him. Luke can’t be with him right now. He doesn’t want to be with anyone. He wants to go home, get fucked up, and forget he’s even a person. He doesn't want to be alive. Joining his brother in death sounds like a really good plan right now, so he runs. 

Once he thinks he has lost Ashton, he catches his breath and calls a car. The car is there within a few minutes, and he gets in. He is jittery as the car slowly takes him to his apartment. The funeral was outside of the city, so he is expecting a long car ride, however it feels like it takes days. When he finally gets in his apartment, he pulls a bag of cocaine out of his pocket. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, realizing his nose is too stuffy for him to snort. “Fuck!” His loud voice carries through the empty space of his small apartment. Then he remembers something Cherry had given him. Yes. It’s perfect. It will be much quicker than snorting, and he doesn't have to deal with his nose which is stuffy from all of the crying. First he needs to get drunk, the alcohol from before has worn off long ago. He finds the bottle of Tequila he has in his kitchen area, unscrews the lid, and begins drinking straight from the bottle, the liquid biting his tongue. 

Once he has consumed about a third of the bottle, his skin is feeling numb. Now is the perfect time. He goes into his bathroom, locating the object he is looking for. He has never done this before, but he’s seen others do it. E uses his teeth and one hand to tie a cut rubber band around his bicep. He slightly bends his arm, clenching and unclenching into a fist a few times to find a good vein. He hisses when he sticks the pre-filled needle in his arm, drunkenly missing the vein the first few times. On the fifth attempt, he finds it. 

He has never used cocaine this way before, but Cherry gave him some pre-loaded syringes once when he was complaining about not being able to do another line because his nose was so fucked up. He pulls the stopper back, watching his blood mix with the continents of the syringe. He takes a deep breath, then presses the plunger down slowly. The effect of the drug hitting his bloodstream is instantaneous. His heart begins beating wildly, his skin breaking out into a sweat. 

He forgets. 

__________

**_Tuesday afternoon……._ **

“Jesus. This place is swanky,” Niall says, and Louis agrees wholeheartedly as he looks around the overly extravagant restaurant. There is a huge chandelier in the middle of the room that probably cost more than Louis’ house. Well the house he had before they jumped off a cliff. The round tables are spaced apart, expensive dark red tablecloths covering their surface, a bouquet of pink flowers in the middle. Harry has given his mom’s name to the attendant, and they are now being led through the restaurant, guests giving them strange looks for their attire. 

Louis tries to ignore the anxiety twisting his gut. He is about to meet Harry’s _parents_. Well his mother. He already met his father years ago, he just didn’t know it. Louis still can’t quite wrap his head around that. He focuses on Harry’s back, taking deep breaths as they are being led through the extravagant restaurant, walking through a doorway which opens into a large room. Sitting at the only table in the room are two women, one with long dark hair and the other with equally long sandy blonde hair. 

“A waiter will be with you shortly,” the attendant says with a small bow, then walks away. Louis is unsure what to do, so he looks at Harry for a cue. Harry sits down next to Anne, not really looking her or the other woman in the eye. Louis takes a seat next to Harry, leaving Niall the spot next to the younger woman. A pregnant silence falls over the table then, Louis looking anywhere but directly at Anne. 

“Where are my manners? I'm Anne, Harry’s mother, and this is Gemma, Harry’s sister,” Anne introduces herself and daughter, smiling politely. Louis almost stands up to shake her hand, but he doesn’t. Harry looks more like his mom than his dad, which Louis had already assumed. They have the same hair color, nose, and dimples. He hasn’t seen Gemma smile yet, but she also looks a lot like them. Gemma’s eyes are more hazel, than green, but other than that, he can definitely tell they are related. 

“Umm… Hi. I’m Louis and this is my friend Niall,” Louis responds, his voice unsure and shaky. He clears his throat but doesn't say anything, feeling too awkward to do so. In search of finding something to do with his hands, he takes a sip of wine. He almost immediately spits it out, the liquid bitter on his tongue, but he forces himself to swallow. He doesn't want to know how much it cost, but it’s disgusting and most certainly not worth it. He makes a face, and Harry smiles at him. A heavy silence falls back over the table again, no one wanting to be the first to break it. 

“What the hell is going on, Mother?” Harry is the first to break the silence. Louis’ head snaps up at the curse word, but Harry’s eyes resemble a forest fire. Green branches going up in flames, and completely devastating with their destruction. 

“Harry. Do not use that kind of language,” Anne chastises, sipping from her glass of wine. She looks like the epitome of class as she does so, her simple black dress form fitting but not inappropriately so. She is wearing minimal jewelry, small diamond earrings peaking out every time she moves her head. Gemma is dressed similarly, her dress blue and a bit more modern as opposed to her mother’s more classic style. Jesus. Louis has been around Harry far too long. 

“I don’t give a fuck what kind of language I use, Mom. I’m more concerned about the fact that my dad was a mafia leader who was involved in sex trafficking, and you fucking lied to me about it my entire life,” Harry snaps, and Louis is shocked. He doesn't think he has ever heard him this angry, and Louis has had plenty of arguments with the other man. Anne looks startled for a split second before a calm facade is back on her face. Something about the woman both intrigues and terrifies Louis. Like she would give him a warm hug while she stabs him in the back. 

“I understand your anger, Harry, but you did everything you could to avoid it. We wanted to tell you when you turned 18, but you wouldn’t have it,” she explains, her voice hushed. They are in a private room, so no one can hear them. Maybe she is trying to be quiet in case the waiter comes to take their order. Louis looks down at the menu, and almost chokes. The entire thing is in French. He glances over at Niall who is also looking at it, his face distorted in bewilderment. 

“Well I’m not exactly interested in running a fucking sex trafficking organization, Mother,” Harry responds, his voice ringing in Louis’ ear. It feels like the entire place is silent for a long moment after that. No chatter. No air running. Nothing. He looks at Anne, but she doesn’t really look guilty, though. Gemma doesn’t seem surprised. He wonders if Gemma knew about it all along or at least since she turned 18. She is older than Harry. 

“Can I take your order?” The waiter asks, clearing his throat, as he stands awkwardly beside the table. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Louis begins to slightly panic because he cannot fucking read French. Sensing his distress, Harry orders for both him and Niall, his French accent way better than anything Louis could ever accomplish. It kind of turns him on, if he is being perfectly honest. Louis squeezes his knee under the table in thanks. The waiter leaves quickly, and Harry takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to get his temper under control. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I’m being honest when I say that we have been trying to tell you for years, but you’ve been avoiding us,” Anne starts again, watching as the waiter's back disappears out the door, into the main portion of the restaurant. Poor man is probably scared, and there is no way of knowing exactly what he heard. At a high class establishment like this, Louis supposes he probably had to sign a contract with a confidentiality clause in order to work here. 

“How did this even start, Mother? Why did he go by the name Selley? Aren’t mafia’s supposed to be the last name of the leader or something?” Harry asks the questions so quickly, Louis’ head is spinning. He doesn’t think he has ever heard Harry talk that fast, but then again, he really hasn’t known Harry that long in the grand scheme of things. It feels like much longer, but it’s only really been a week and a day. Fuck. 

“Yeah, they do, but it didn’t start in his family. It started in mine. Selley is my maiden name. I never told you because I was too afraid you would hear about it somehow. I wanted to shield you as long as possible,” she answers, and her voice is genuine. Louis doesn’t think she is lying. Louis has always wanted children, but could never really see how they could align with his lifestyle. He supposes he could see her motives for doing so. He would want to shield his children as much as possible as well. It explains why Harry grew up so kind. He wasn’t around the violence of his parent’s livelihood. 

“Yours?” Harry asks, and fuck, Louis didn’t even catch that. The organization belongs to Anne’s father which explains everything. Why hadn’t Louis thought of that? Louis supposes he never really considered what would happen if a crime leader didn’t have a son to pass the business down to. Simon doesn’t have a son either, but Louis had never really thought of who Simon intended it to go to once he died. Perhaps he wanted Louis to have it. Louis never really pictured himself as the head guy, though. 

“Yes. I was an only child, and my father was a sexist man. He didn’t want to leave his business to me, so he arranged a marriage with his most loyal man in the organization. After your grandfather died, Des took over,” Anne reveals, and fuck. That’s completely fucking unfair. The mafia can very much be a sexist organization. There are very few women that are leaders within, and it pisses Louis off so fucking much. If he was the head, he would most certainly change that. Equal opportunities are important. 

“Did you know about the sex trafficking, Mother?” Harry asks, his voice hesitant, as if a part of him still doesn't want to know. He takes a sip of wine, unfazed. Louis watches his throat bob as he swallows it. Louis wishes he was that wine. It would certainly be better than being a part of the current conversation. Louis can’t imagine what Harry is feeling right now, but it can’t be good. 

“Not at first. I actually didn’t find out about it until recently. Your father hid it from me. It’s shocking he was able to do it, really. He was completely incomptent. I was the one that made most of the decisions. I would have never agreed to sex trafficking, Harry, you have to believe me.” Harry looks at Louis with wide eyes, as if he is begging Louis to tell him what to do. Louis licks his lips and nods once, silently telling Harry that he believes her explanation. 

“How did he even get involved?” Harry asks next, and Louis is wondering the same thing. He doesn't even know how one would get involved in this type of thing. It’s disgusting really, but it’s been around since ancient times. It may never fully go away, but Louis very much wants to help put a stop to it. He just doesn't know how. 

“He said it was a business arrangement he made with a friend. I’m not sure who his friend was, but I got the idea that Des double-crossed him. He did love to do that, your father,” Anne says, her tone almost bitter. Louis gets the feeling that perhaps the relationship between Anne and Des wasn’t quite what it appeared to be. He looks between Harry and his mother, trying to figure this out. 

“Are you mad at me?” Harry asks suddenly, and the question seems to come out of nowhere. Harry is biting his lips, his expression very similar to the one he was wearing yesterday morning in the hotel room. His eyes are shiny, as if he is trying to hold back tears. Louis wants to comfort him, but doesn't know how the present company would react. Louis settles for squeezing his knee under the table. 

“For?” She asks, confusion marring her beautiful features. Louis was about to ask the same question though, so it’s very valid. Why would she be mad at him? Harry is the one that should be mad. He has every right to be, after having been lied to his whole life. He should be mad at her, not the other way around. Louis bites his tongue to keep from expressing his thoughts. 

“Because I killed your husband. I killed my own father,” Harry whispers like a confession, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Louis barely resists the urge to wipe it away. Fuck. He hates this. He wants to comfort Harry, but he doesn't know if he should. Anne doesn't look surprised by his admission, though, taking another sip of her wine. 

“I know. I watched the surveillance footage. It doesn't seem like you had much of a choice. You’ve obviously grown to care very deeply for this young man, and he was going to kill him,” Anne says, gesturing towards Louis. He can feel the blush rising in his cheeks with her sudden attention. Holy fuck. She watched it happen. She must know that Louis begged him not to. Like she said, Harry wasn’t given much of a choice. She clears her throat to continue, “To answer your question, no, I’m not mad. I would have done the same if it were Robin.” 

“Robin?” Harry asks, and Louis fucking seconds that question. Who the fuck is Robin? 

“Robin is my boyfriend. We’ve been together for five years now,” Anne answers easily, and what the actual fuck? Louis was not expecting that answer for some reason. He had always pictured Harry’s family as perfect, but, in hindsight, he knows that’s not the case. Anne isn’t even upset about her husband’s death. She is sipping wine and carrying on a conversation, not even a tear in her eyes as they discuss it. 

“What? You have a boyfriend? You were cheating on Dad? Are you kidding?” Harry’s voice is one of disbelief, as he looks at his mom with wide eyes. Louis squeezes his knee again, offering him some sort of reassurance. He knows this is probably a lot to take in. He couldn’t imagine being in Harry’s position. He probably feels like his entire life has been a lie. This is just adding another log to the fire of Harry's existential crisis. 

“Honey, I told you, my relationship with you father was purely business related. He had lovers on the side, and so did I. There was no love between us, especially later in our marriage. I just didn’t have a choice. I had to stay with him for various reasons. The only good that came from it was you and Gemma. I’m actually glad you killed the bastard. I would have put a hit out on him years ago, if I knew his loyalist in the organization wouldn’t have immediately blamed me. Now, there is video evidence that I didn’t do it,” Anne says with a wide smile. A shiver travels up Louis’ spine. This woman is scary. 

“Did you know about this?” Harry asks, turning to Gemma. Her eyes widen as she sits her wine glass down, clearing her throat. 

“Yeah. I’ve met Robin. He’s great. We had plans to tell you two Christmases ago, but you never showed up,” she responds with a shrug, as if that should suffice as an answer. To be fair, it kind of does. How are they supposed to tell Harry if he refused to see them for the past several years? It’s not entirely their fault, and Louis understands why they would keep their secret until he was older. Louis was exposed to violence at a very young age, and it has fucked him up beyond belief. He understands wanting to protect Harry from it at all costs. Louis still wants to protect him. 

“Are you okay, babe?” Louis asks, hand coming up to the table to squeeze Harry’s larger one. Harry turns to him, and his face is white. He looks like he has seen a ghost. Louis almost winces at the haunted look in his green eyes. He squeezes his hand again because he is getting worried about his silence. Harry is never quiet for this long. 

“I’m just…” Harry starts, but he closes his mouth. He swallows, licking his lips. Louis squeezes his hand again because Harry looks as if he is on the verge of breaking down. Harry begins speaking again, his voice thick with emotion, “I just feel like my entire life has been a lie. I was preaching to you about fucking morals, and here I was, living off money made from sick fucks who buy children.” 

“You didn’t know, love. It’s not your fault,” Louis insists, barely resisting the urge to grab Harry and hold him close. To get him out of here, and shield him just a tiny bit longer from the harsh world they live in. He can’t though. It’s too late. The world has caught up with him, and Louis just prays that it doesn't taint him in the same way it has turned Louis’ own blood black. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, Harry, but this is not the reason I invited you here,” Anne pipes in, and all eyes turn to her again. Louis is studying her, trying to figure out her exact motives, but she has zero tells. She only shows what she wants the people around her to see. She is solid, unmoving, unflinching, and Louis wonders what she has witnessed in her own life to make her this way. 

“And what would that be,” Louis spits, starting to become annoyed with her. It feels like she is speaking in riddles, and she just doesn’t care. Her son is on the verge of tears, probably feeling as though his life is crumbling around him, and she doesn't care. She doesn't reach out to hold his hand or pat his back or offer any sort of comforting gesture. No. She is smiling like she has a secret, and Louis wants to tell her to get fucked. 

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Tomlinson,” Anne responds, swirling the wine in her glass, her smile getting wider. Now Louis is mad. He looks around, feeling like he has to be on candid camera. This surely isn’t the way a real person behaves. Nothing seems amiss though, and she is still looking at him, with knowing blue eyes, waiting to see if he is going to take the bait, if his curiosity is going to get the better of him. 

“A proposition? What the fuck does that even mean? This isn’t some TV Drama. This is real life. Your son is hurting, and you’re seriously sitting there, all like ‘I have a proposition, Mr. Tomlinson’,” Louis mocks, his voice taking on a high pitched quality to match hers. “I cannot believe you’re fucking serious right now.” Louis’ breaths are coming out in short, sharp huffs, his temper rising. Gemma’s mouth opens in shock, Harry’s mirroring hers a few seconds later. Niall is smiling wide, as if he is so excited to get to witness this moment first hand. Anne looks taken aback for a second before her eyes narrow, anger flashing behind them. 

“You do realize who I am, don’t you?” Anne asks, her voice lowering an octave. The tone sends a shiver down Louis’ spine, and warning bells go off in the back of his brain, telling him not to make her angry. He ignores them though. He has had a long fucking few days, and he is so damn sick of this bullshit. He wants to get the fuck out of here, and try to get a hold of Ashton again. Time is ticking for his sister, and he doesn’t want to waist a minute being Anne’s fucking puppet. 

“Yes. You have made that perfectly fucking clear. A rich, powerful woman who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about her own son. I’m sorry if I don’t exactly give a rat’s ass about your proposition,” Louis answers, maintaining eye contact with every word. They stare at each other for a long moment, the tension mounting between them. It’s as if someone has taken a large rubber band and is aiming it at them, planning to let it go any second now. Louis braces himself for the impact. 

“This is why I chose you,” She finally says, and what? Louis is confused, and here they are. Back to talking in fucking riddles. He wants to fucking scream, but they are in the middle of an upscale restaurant. He doesn't really want to make a scene. 

“Choose me for what?” Louis asks, his tone harsh. 

“To take over the family business. You’re perfect. You’re smart. You’re clever. You know the business inside and out. You’ve got some fucking balls,” Anne responds, and Louis’ brain short circuits. What the fuck did she just say? Niall and Harry are both looking at him with shocked expressions, as if they can’t believe it either. Louis was expecting her to kill him for his insubordance, not offer him a fucking job. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding. Let me make this perfectly fucking clear. I will _never_ become the leader of an organization that deals in sex trafficking,” Louis responds, his tone even despite the heat behind his words. He simply fucking refuses. If he had known Simon was involved, then he would have left years ago. 

“That’s why you’re perfect. I hate that part of it. I never wanted it, and I wanted Des to stop as soon as I found out. He refused. It’s disgusting, and I will never forgive Des for getting us into it. If anyone can dismantle it, it’s you,” Anne tells him, and that sends Louis’ head for another spin. Fuck. She wouldn’t expect him to keep that part? He could put an end to it? That’s… tempting. 

“You don’t think someone from Cowell’s organization taking over is gonna cause some eyebrows being raised and tension?” Louis asks, his mind automatically finding a kink in her plan. She said herself, Des has many people that are loyal to him. They certainly won’t appreciate a stranger coming in and giving them orders. The mafia is all about respect, and Louis hasn’t earned theirs by working up in the ranks. He would have a target on his back for the first six months at least. 

“Of course it is, but I have ways to handle that,” Anne answers, her voice confident. Louis believes her. He believes she would kill anyone who challenges him. It is her family name afterall, not Des’. He’s dead now, so it would go to her or her children.

Neither of them are married, and since Gemma is a woman, it would go to Harry, as sexist as that is. Harry is the rightful owner to it now or his spouse. It suddenly dawns on him that he doesn't mind the idea of being Harry’s spouse. If he marries Harry, then he would have rights to it, plus it rhymes. He glances at Harry, and jesus fucking christ he wants to marry him someday. He wouldn’t marry him just because of this. No. He would marry him because he doesn't want to spend his life without Harry by his side. 

“Why should I do this?” Louis asks because he is actually fucking considering it. 

“You can be safe. You don’t have to hide from Simon Cowell anymore. You will also have a better chance of taking him down,” Anne explains, and she knows exactly what to say to entice Louis. He wants nothing more than to bring Simon down right now, and this would be a great way to do it. He would have the power behind him. He would no longer feel so fucking helpless. “You can also bring whoever you trust from Cowell’s organization over. I’m sure I’ll have to kill quite a few of our own to teach some lessons in mutiny.” She looks at Niall, smiling. 

“How do you know you can trust me?” Louis asks next. Anne smiles at him, as if she knows he is thinking about this. She’s smart, that much is very clear. That must be where Harry gets it from. 

“Well, that answer is very simple. You love my son,” Anne says, and Louis freezes. He glances at Harry, who is looking at him. They haven’t really said it to each other. Well, Louis doesn't know if Harry heard him say it, and he thinks he remembers Harry saying it when he thought Louis was dying. She continues, as if she didn’t just reveal something monumental. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take a few days to consider my offer. You have my word that there isn’t a catch. You get full control over the organization, and can do with it what you wish.”

The food comes a moment later, and they all dig in. Harry explains to Louis and Niall what he ordered them. He ordered Louis filet d’agneau en croûte de truffe, sauce périgueux which is basically lamb with crusted truffle. It melts in Louis’ mouth, and he barely resists the urge to moan at the first bite. They keep the subject light, Harry and Anne catching up on family matters, including Louis in the conversation. Gemma and Niall strike up a conversation of their own, Gemma laughing every few seconds at whatever Niall is saying. It’s strange, but Louis tries not to question it too much, his mind racing with the decision of Anne’s offer. 

It sounds almost too good to be true. He feels like there is a catch somewhere. If she gives him full control of the organization then what is she going to do? Step down? Retire? Does she want to retire? She mentioned her boyfriend, so maybe she just wants to lead a quiet life with him, away from all of the bullshit that comes with a criminal organization. It has to be exhausting constantly looking over your back, and it seems she has made some enemies with Des’ most loyal. So what’s her plan? Phase Louis in the bow out? It doesn't seem like it would be that simple. 

“Harry, before I forget, we are having a small service for your father at the family cemetery tomorrow. I would completely understand if you don’t want to come. I just thought I should tell you. Nothing special. Your father had far more enemies than he did friends,” Anne tells him, right as they finish dessert. Louis and Harry had split a chocolate moelleux. Louis checks Harry’s reaction once he realizes what Anne had invited him to. He can’t quite read him though, which means Harry is probably torn on exactly how to feel. 

“O-okay,” Harry responds, and leaves it at that. 

“I’m going to try to get a hold of Ashton again,” Louis says, changing the subject. They had told Anne about Simon kidnapping his sister earlier. She said she would have some men discreetly check on things, but couldn’t make any promises. Louis appreciates the help, but he still feels Ashton and Luke are his best bet. He pulls out his phone, dialing Ashton’s number. He holds his breath. “It’s ringing.”

_____________

**_Tuesday afternoon……._ **

“Fuck,” Ashton curses, calling Luke for the fifth time and being sent straight to voicemail. He must still have his phone off. Ashton had just turned his back on, after he realized that Luke managed to disappear. He needs to put a tracking device on that boy. Ashton is torn between going to Luke’s house to confront him or leaving him alone since he obviously doesn’t want Ashton around. Ashton jumps when his phone starts ringing. He doesn't even look at who’s calling before he answers it. “Luke? Luke? Where are you?” 

“Ash it’s me. Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you,” a raspy voice says on the other line, and Ashton knows that voice. It’s the same voice that haunts his dreams, begging him to save him. Ashton scrubs his hand down his face, trying to wake himself up. He knows he’s not still drunk, but maybe he’s hallucinating from sleep deprivation. That’s the only explanation as to why a ghost is calling him. 

“Louis?” Ashton asks, his voice cracking with emotion and disbelief. 

“Yeah, Ash. It’s me. I promise,” Louis says, and it definitely sounds like him. Ashton walks to his mirror, looking at his reflection. He looks like shit, but he also looks awake. He pinches his cheek, feeling the sting a moment later. He is pretty sure he is awake, but that doesn't mean he’s not hallucinating right? 

“But you’re dead,” Ashton insists, his brain still not believing this is happening. Simon said Louis was dead. Would Simon lie? Yes. That answer is easy. He would definitely lie. Fuck. It could be a trick though. It could be someone pretending to be Louis that Simon had planted to trick Ashton and Luke. 

“It’s me. Look I’ll prove it. The first time we met, I watched you beat the shit out of some guy twice your size and offered you a job on the spot. One time, we played a prank on Luke where we taped an air horn to the wall so when the door knob hit it, it would go off. It scared the absolute shit out of him, and he wouldn’t talk to us for three days. We also pranked Niall by putting thousands of post-it notes all over his car with crudely drawn penises,” Louis rambles, and Ashton begins laughing, elation filling his system. There is no way Simon would know about those pranks. In fact, Ashton had forgotten about them until this very moment. 

“It _is_ you. Fuck. Oh my god. You’re alive. Holy shit. I need to tell Luke. Fuck,” Ashton rambles, his heart racing with excitement. This may actually cheer Luke up. He knows Luke hasn’t always liked Louis, but they were friends, so maybe this could shed some happiness on Luke’s life. Ashton has noticed him spiraling, but he isn’t sure what the fuck he can do about it. He grabs his coat, the decision made to go to Luke’s apartment. 

“Yeah. Harry saved us. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since we made it to a phone, but it’s been going straight to voicemail,” Louis explains. 

“Yeah. Both Luke and I have had our phones turned off because… well… Louis, it’s been a week from hell, and it’s only fucking Tuesday,” Ashton tells him, locking his door, then walking to his car. He turns the key in the ignition, his phone automatically switching to Bluetooth, Louis’ raspy voice filling car via the speakers. Fuck. Ashton is so happy to hear it. 

“Tell me about it. I actually called to ask for a favor. I know it may be a bad time, but I really need you all right now,” Louis says, his voice hesitant. 

“Anything. We will do whatever you need,” Ashton responds quickly, backing out of his driveway. 

“Simon kidnapped my sister. Not Lottie, but the younger one that Carey had mentioned. I don’t know if you remember it…” Louis’ voice trails off. 

“Of course I remember her. What’s her name? How old is she? Like 8 or 9? Me and Luke can ask around, see if we can find out where he is keeping her,” Ashton tells him, maneuvering his way through vehicles on the street, trying to get to Luke’s house as quickly as possible. 

“She’s thirteen. She has long, dark hair, and blue eyes. Lottie calls her Poppy, but her full name is Penelope,” Louis tells him, sounding relieved, but Ashton freezes, a shiver going down his spine. Her description. Her name. Fuck. Ashton knows that name. He feels like he is going to puke, but he has nothing in his stomach to make a reappearance. The acid churns uncomfortably, so he swallows it down. 

“Louis. Fuck. I’m so sorry. Oh my god. Fuck,” Ashton says, hitting the stearing wheel in frustration. 

“Ashton, what’s wrong? Is she dead? Do you know something about her? Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be mad, but you need to tell me. Please,” Louis begs, his voice shaking on the other end. He thinks he can hear Harry in the background, his tone questioning. 

“Luke and I kidnapped her on Monday. We didn’t know it was your sister though! I swear! Simon said she was some rich dude’s kid, and he wanted to ransom her since Harry’s ransom was a bust. He wanted to recover the lost money. I-I should have known that was bogus, but we were both so fucking hungover and upset about you, that we didn’t even question him. We just… fuck… we just did what he asked,” Ashton says, so fucking angry with himself. He is also scared that Louis will be angry with him, too. 

“Fuck. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You were just doing what you were told. Do you know where she is now?” Louis asks him, and Ashton shakes his head. Realizing, Louis can’t see him, he voices his answer. 

“No. We dropped her off at the warehouse Monday morning, but then we found out Luke’s brother died of an OD. We both pretty much turned off our phones after that, so we haven’t been in contact with Simon,” Ashton explains, voice sad. 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry to hear about Riley. Luke must be so broken. They were close, weren’t they?” Louis asks, and of course Louis would put Luke’s problem before his own. That’s just how Louis is. He is such a great guy. 

“Yeah. The funeral was today. He’s been a bit of a mess. Look, I’ll ask around and see what I can find out. Can we meet you somewhere tomorrow to talk? I would say today, but I just don’t think now is the time. It’s been a long day,” Ashton says, hoping that Louis will understand. He’s just so fucking tired, and he can’t think about this right now. He needs to go tell Luke the good news. 

“Yeah. That’s fine, man. Come to my safe house tomorrow morning. Bring Luke,” Louis responds, then they say their goodbyes. Ashton has just arrived at Luke's building, so he turns off the ignition and heads back into the cold. He quickly locates Luke’s apartment, raising his fist to knock, not wanting a repeat of last time. Luke doesn't answer, and worry prickles his skin. Even when he’s high or fucking Cherry, he usually answers the door. Ashton decides to let himself in, the door swinging open a few seconds later. 

The first thing Ashton realizes is that it’s cold, so cold he can see his breath, as if the heat has stopped working. He walks the rest of the way into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and calling out Luke’s name. He doesn’t see him in his eyeline as he steps further into the small apartment, towards the bed. His feet hit something soft, and what the fuck? 

He looks down, finding Luke’s body convulsing on the floor below his feet. He is naked, pale, almost translucent, skin wrapped around bone, barely any fat. His lips are a light shade of blue, two bright trails of blood running out of the corner of his mouth, contrasting with the ghost-like color of his skin. His fingers are blue as well, and his blond curly hair is wet with sweat. Fear grips Ashton’s throat, stopping any kind of breath from leaving his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of y'all yelled about the "cliffhanger" in the last chapter and I kind of laughed because that wasn't even a cliffhanger. Now THIS is a cliffhanger. You may proceed with your yelling. Until next week! Happy New Year!


	7. Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really don't have a summary.... just read it I suppose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the last week, I hope this provides a bit of happiness even though it is tense at times lol. Also, if you are reading this as WIP and you read last weeks update, I recommend going back to the last chapter and rereading at least half of the last scene to get the full effect. 
> 
> Also... as always warnings still apply. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_ That I'd end up so caught up in need of your demons  
_ _ That I'd be lost without you leading me astray  
_ _ Guess that I'm a fool for the way that you caught me  
_ _ You make my heart break more every day  
_ __ But don't fade away- Lewis Capaldi 

“Luke? Lukey? Baby? Are you okay?” Ashton asks, the questions flying out of his mouth quickly. He bends down, touching Luke’s skin. It is hot and clammy, a direct contrast to the cold of the apartment. He recognizes this as a seizure. Fear hits Ashton like a freight train, freezing his limbs for a split second. Finally, instinct takes over, and Ashton checks for Luke’s pulse, finding his heart racing so quickly, it is probably seconds away from stopping. 

Ashton looks around the room, spotting half a bottle of Tequila sitting near where Luke is currently laying, his body still convulsing. Ashton turns Luke on his side, his logical brain telling him this isn’t just from alcohol use. His assumption is confirmed when he looks on the bed, seeing a used needle sitting on top of the duvet. Fuck. He looks at Luke’s arm, finding a mark a moment later. 

“No. No. Luke. Fuck. Lukey. Please. Why? Why did you do this?” Ashton asks, but Luke’s eyes are closed, his chest barely rising and falling with each breath. Ashton is in disbelief for a solid three point seven seconds, tears streaming down his face. Luke OD’d. That’s the only explanation. Luke OD’d on cocaine, deciding to shoot it instead of snorting like he normally would. Ashton knows the signs. He has done a lot of research in case something like this were to happen. His body springs into action a moment later. 

“Come on, baby,” Ashton says, his throat thick with tears as he lays Luke’s now still body on his back. He thinks he may be crying, a random drop from an unknown location falling on Luke’s chest, trailing down his sternum. Ashton sniffles, picking Luke up, his large body completely limp in Ashton’s arm. He takes him to the small bathroom, laying him in the tub, as he begins convulsing again, blood now trickling out of his mouth. It scares Ashton, but he tells himself that Luke has just bitten his tongue with his seizure. 

Ashton then searches Luke’s bathroom for the sedative he knows is there, just in case this were to happen. He finds it after a few moments, using a shaking hand to get the correct dosage into a syringe. Ashton knows he should call 911. He knows he isn’t a professional at this, but he also knows that they should never, ever, get people outside of the organization involved. He also knows that if Luke recovers, he would never speak to him again, so Ashton doesn't call anyone. He lets his own instincts take over. He can take care of Luke. He has to. 

“Okay baby. Stay with me,” Ashton whispers, checking his pulse again. It is still beating rapidly, and if Ashton doesn’t get this sedative into his body, then it will stop all together. He can’t let that happen, so he rips his shirt, using a piece of the fabric to tie around Luke’s bicep. Luke begins seizing again, and Ashton is scared to death that this will be his last. That when it stops, he will never move again. 

His eyes are blurry with tears, as he holds Luke’s arm down, using the edge of the tub as leverage. Ashton has never done this before, and his entire body is shaking as he sticks the needle in his arm. He misses a few times, Luke’s body still shaking along with his own. He sighs in relief when he finds the vein on the fifth try, slowly plunging the sedative into his arm. After the syringe is empty and what feels like a lifetime of minutes, Luke’s body stops convulsing. 

Fuck. Did Luke just die? Did Ashton not give him the sedative in time to help him? His mind begins racing, more thoughts of Luke dying right in front of his eyes, not even in his arms, and Ashton couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it. Luke looks lifeless, his pale, almost translucent skin, stretched over bones. His eyes are closed, blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. Ashton forces himself to check for a pulse, finding one a moment later. It’s not nearly as erratic as it was, and Ashton allows himself a sigh in relief. 

Ashton checks him for any other injuries, forcing his mouth open to see where the blood was coming from. There is more blood inside, but Ashton grabs his cell phone. He types in the password with shaky fingers, Luke’s blood that is on his fingertips now swiping across the shiny surface of the phone. He quickly turns out the flashlight, forcing Luke’s mouth open again. He thinks that Luke may have just bitten his tongue, and that’s where the blood is coming from. He is relieved to discover that there doesn't seem to be any internal bleeding. 

His skin is still hot to the touch, and Ashton knows he needs to cool him down. He undresses himself quickly, then gets in the tub with Luke, cradling the larger man between his legs. He grits his teeth, mentally preparing himself for what is about to happen. He then turns the shower water on, keeping the knob on a cool temperature. It’s so cold, it takes the breath out of his lungs. Luke whines, the first sign of life, then he begins to try to get away from the uncomfortable sensation. Ashton grabs him, forcing his body to stay under the stream. It’s the hardest thing he has ever had to do, restraining Luke’s writhing body, but he knows it’s necessary. 

After several minutes, or it could be hours, Luke begins shivering. He hasn’t had another seizure since Ashton administered the sedative. Ashton checks his pulse, pleased to find that it has slowed down substantially, now around 70 beats per minute. His body temperature has also cooled down considerably, and Ashton sighs in relief, feeling as though the worst has passed. Luke is alive, and seems to be mostly okay. 

Ashton doesn’t say anything as he turns off the water, picking Luke up in his arms a moment later. He feels as light as a feather, as Ashton slowly steps out of the tub. He grabs a few towels, walking Luke through the cold apartment, Luke’s shivers becoming much worse. Ashton is fighting his own body’s response to the cold as well. He needs to get Luke dried off before he puts him in bed though. 

The first thing Ashton does after sitting Luke on the small chair is go to the baseboard heating unit, turning it on. Luke probably turned it off in his inebriated state because he was too hot. He then goes back over to Luke, who’s body is trembling so badly now, Ashton fears it’s another seizure. Some of the color has returned to his face though, his lips and fingers no longer a pale shade of blue. Ashton begins quickly drying him off, not worrying about himself at the moment. 

After Luke is mostly dry, Ashton picks him back up, placing him under the covers on the bed a moment later. The apartment is beginning to heat up, the wall heater working quickly in the tiny space. Ashton dries himself the rest of the way off, most of the moisture having evaporated by now, then he climbs in bed behind Luke. He wraps his arms around him, running his fingers through his wet hair as he holds him close. He can’t stop the tears of relief from leaking out of his eyes, joining the water still in Luke’s curls. He almost lost him. Fuck. 

“Ash? What are you doing here? What happened?” Luke asks, the words slurred. Ashton cries harder, so happy to finally hear his voice. He thought he would never hear it again, and Luke’s voice is his favorite. He doesn't want to scare him though, so he swallows down the lump in his throat, sniffing a bit, trying to sound as normal as possible. He keeps his face hidden in Luke’s hair as he answers. 

“Luke, baby, you OD’d. I came to tell you some good news, but you were on the floor, having a seizure. You scared me so much, baby, please don’t do that again,” Ashton says, pushing Luke’s shoulder so he can look him in the eyes. Luke’s blue eyes are open wide when he sees the look on Ashton’s face, probably realizing the severity of the situation. Luke nods, and Ashton begins kissing his face all over, so happy to have Luke alive and talking to him. 

“What was the good news?” Luke asks, his voice clearly very tired. He hasn’t slept very well in a few days, and Ashton did just give him a huge dose of a sedative. Not enough to kill him, but it would make him extremely lethargic. He probably needs lots of rest after everything his body has been through. Ashton had almost forgotten about the good news in the wake of Luke’s OD. Fuck. 

“Louis is alive!” Ashton exclaims, watching Luke’s expression change from curiosity to disbelief. Ashton smiles, nodding his head, “He called me. I’ll tell you about it when we wake up though. You need some rest.” Ashton kisses Luke on the tip of his nose, placing a hand on his now smiling face. 

“Okay. I’m glad he’s okay. Really. Night, Ash. Thank you for saving me,” Luke says, his eyes closing slowly, voice heavy with exhaustion. Luke turns over, snuggling closer into Ashton’s body. Ashton doesn't even respond. He just places his hand over Luke’s heart to ensure it’s still beating, afraid of the possibility that it will eventually stop someday. That Luke will die, and there will still be so much they haven't said to each other. Ashton almost tells him, the words that are floating around in his head. Like always, he doesn’t. He keeps them to himself, falling asleep a few moments later, exhaustion from the past few days finally taking over. 

___________

**_Wednesday Morning…._ **

“What time is it?” Louis asks, pacing the living room as he chews on his fingers. He can feel Louis’ anxiety over the situation coming off him in waves, and it is beginning to affect Harry as well. Harry wishes Ashton and Luke could have come sooner, but given the fact that Luke’s brother died a few days ago, Harry understands the situation. He couldn’t imagine what Luke is currently going through, and he is thankful that Luke even wants to help them. 

“Almost 10. They should be here any minute now, babe. You said yourself, it’s not like Ashton to be late,” Harry tells him, leaning forward to click the button so the cell phone laying on the table would light up with the time. Harry grabs Louis by the arm, pulling him into his lap. Louis resists for the first few seconds, eventually giving in and falling into Harry’s embrace. Harry rubs his back, as he looks around at the tired eyes in the room. Liam and Niall are sitting together on the couch, Lottie taking up the plushy arm chair in the corner. Lottie has been staying with them in one of the extra bedrooms, deciding it was much safer for her rather than go back to her apartment. 

“Did you decide what you wanted to do about this afternoon?” Louis asks, his voice only loud enough for Harry to hear. Harry freezes. It’s the first time Louis has asked about it, but Harry could tell he wanted to mention it during the quiet pauses of their conversations over the course of last night. Louis has been giving him time to make a decision, but time is beginning to run out. 

“I don’t really know. Isn’t it disrespectful of me to go when I’m the reason he’s dead?” Harry asks, his guilt over killing his own father returning tenfold. His mom saying she wasn’t upset with him did make him feel better. It seems everyone knew his father wasn’t a good man, but that knowledge does very little to absolve him of his guilt completely. It just lessons it a bit. 

“I don’t think so. It may give you some closure,” Louis points out, his voice soft. 

“Yeah… maybe. I just… I hate him. I still hate him, and I feel so bad for hating him. I resent him in a lot of ways, and while I still feel guilty for killing him, I don’t think I regret it. I would do it again. What does that say about me though? How does that make me any better than him? I guess I don’t want to go because I’m afraid that I may become him. I don’t wanna see my future,” Harry confesses, the words barely above a whisper. Louis’ image is blurry now, tears welling in Harry’s eyes blurring everything. It’s fitting though. He feels like the entire world is distorted now. Everything he thought he knew about his family is wrong. 

“Harry. No. You are nothing like him. Just because you have taken a life doesn’t mean you are anything like him. You did it for love, while he had killed countless people for money, hate and greed. He was evil Harry, but you, you’re so fucking pure. Nothing could ever taint you. I’ve said it from the beginning. Some deaths are justifiable, and if there ever was a justifiable murder, it’s his. You aren’t going to become him. It’s just not possible because you’re Harry. You always see the good. Your eyes reflect the kindness of the world.” Louis’ thumb comes up to swipe below Harry’s eyes, where a tear had fallen. 

“I love you, Louis,” Harry blurts out because what else can he say after a speech like that. Fuck. His heart is racing, and he wants nothing more than to kiss the man on his lap, to hold him and never, ever let him go. He wants to promise that they will be alright, even though he can’t because he doesn't fucking know. All he does know is that he loves Louis Tomlinson with his entire soul, that he will do anything to make sure that they are alright. 

“I-” Louis’ mouth is open in shock, and Harry knows he feels the same way. Louis said as much when they were jumping from a fucking cliff, but suddenly Harry regrets saying it so abruptly. Maybe Louis changed his mind. Maybe he just said that in the heat of the moment and didn’t really mean it. 

“I know we’ve only known each other a week and a few days. I know it’s fucking crazy, and maybe I’m crazy, but I love you. I-I’ve never been in love, and it’s nothing like what I imagined. I always thought it would be butterflies and roses, but that wasn’t exactly accurate. The butterflies are dark, but they still flutter. The rose has a dagger through it, but it’s still beautiful. That’s what love is. It’s the darkness. It’s the edge. It’s going to the ends of the earth, then jumping off because you want to make it,” Harry rambles, and he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“We made it. I know it doesn’t feel like we did, but we made it,” Louis whispers, leaning down and kissing Harry softly. They aren’t the words Harry was expecting to hear, but they make his heart feel like it is about to burst out of his chest. The little voice in the back of Harry’s head is telling him that they haven’t made it. Not yet, but he supposes there is a chance. That’s all that matters right now. Louis is whispering something against his lips the next moment, and Harry has to strain to hear it. “I love you, too, Harry. So much.” 

Harry doesn't get a chance to say anything else because a loud knock on the door startles them apart. It takes two point eight seconds for the world to come back into focus. The sound of Niall and Liam’s chatter floating into Harry’s ears. The image of Lottie curled up on the arm chair, staring out the window becoming clearer in his line of vision. 

“That’s gotta be Ash and Luke,” Louis says, jumping off Harry’s lap and practically running to the door. Harry and Niall follow him, Niall wanting to greet his friends. Liam and Lottie stay in their respective seats, looking in the direction of the door with curious eyes. Louis looks through the peephole, nodding once before opening the door, revealing two tall figures both wearing leather jackets. 

“Louis. Fuck. Simon told us you were dead. I’m so happy to see you alive. I…” Ashton doesn’t finish his sentence, grabbing Louis into a hug and spinning him around, a bright smile lighting up his face. Harry can’t help but smile himself; Louis’ happiness at seeing his friends is infectious. Luke watches the interaction from behind, a frown on his face. Harry can understand that, though. God the poor man has had a horrible week, and Harry couldn’t imagine how difficult it’s been for him. 

“Yeah. We’re alive, thanks to Harry. I’m glad to see you all, too. Luke, I’m so sorry about Riley. I know how close you two were,” Louis offers, hugging Luke after leaving Ashton’s arms. Luke is a lot taller, but he leans down, Louis going on his tiptoes to make up the difference. A small smile ghosts over Luke’s face for a split second before it’s gone. Harry wants to know what happened to Riley, but it would be rude to ask, so he just continues to be curious. 

They exchange hugs with Niall, then make the rest of the way into the house. Now that Harry can get a better look at the two men, he can see they both look exhausted. Luke is thin and pale, his face gaunt, eyes bloodshot. Harry noticed that Luke is talking with a bit of a lisp that he doesn't remember being there before, but he could be mistaken. Ashton doesn’t look much better, dark circles under his eyes. They both look like they need about six days of sleep instead of the coffee they are nursing. 

They all sit in the living room, introducing them to Lottie then spending the next few minutes recounting what happened at Harry’s house, who Selley was, and how they survived jumping off a cliff. Harry blushes when Louis brags about how brave Harry had been saving his life. Harry doesn’t feel like he was very brave. He was fucking terrified, but his survival instincts must have taken over. The parts Louis doesn't remember, Harry is able to fill in since Louis was pretty out of it when they made it out of the water. By the end of their tale, Ashton and Luke are sitting with their mouths open in shock. 

After their astonishment fades a bit, Luke and Ashton explain what happened the next day. Their short meeting with Simon and their orders to kidnap a girl named Penelope. Lottie looks angry at them when they say that Poppy was very scared and crying, but she calms down when Luke explains everything he tried to do to help soothe her. Harry understands why Lottie would be upset. She is sitting in the same room as the men who kidnapped her sister, but he also realizes that Ashton and Luke didn’t know. Harry’s logical side is battling with his emotions. He reminds himself that he trusts Ashton and Luke because Louis and Niall do. 

“We’re so sorry, Lou. We had no idea she was your sister, or we never would have done it. We were just told he was going to ransom her, and it seemed like a legit thing. We didn’t even question it,” Ashton apologizes, his voice sincere. 

“It’s okay. I know. It’s not your fault. We’ve all done things without questioning them. That’s a part of the job. We just don’t know how to find her now. Niall and I have exhausted all of our leads. Not even Selley’s men could find out,” Louis explains, his voice on the edge of desperation. At Ashton and Luke’s look of confusion from the mention of Selley, Louis adds, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain in a minute.” 

“We have no idea where she is, Lou. We asked Perez, but he said they moved her pretty much as soon as we dropped her off. Simon was really hush hush about it. If he told anyone, it wasn’t Perez,” Luke says, and Harry has no idea who Perez is, but it must be someone important judging by Louis’ facial expression. 

“Fuck,” Louis voices, shaking his head in frustration. Harry places a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it up and down. 

“I may have a way to find out,” Ashton pipes in, his voice somber. Louis' head snaps up, meeting Ashton’s eyes in a silent question. “I could ask Valentine.” Again, Harry is at a loss as to who this person is, but Niall, Louis and Luke all begin shaking their heads, so he must not be a very good person. 

“Ash, you know he isn’t gonna give that information willingly. He will want something in return,” Luke protests, his tone and eyes pleading. 

“Yeah. So? I’ll do whatever he asks. Let me help you, Louis. Let me make this right.” Ashton seems sure of his decision, but Luke is still shaking his head in disbelief. 

“No, Ashton. You can’t. Not again.” Luke looks like he is on the verge of tears, and Harry’s curiosity is almost getting the better of him. He bites his lip on the question because he doesn’t want to interrupt them. 

“It’s the only way, Luke. You know Valentine will have a lead. If it goes on underground, he knows about it,” Ashton responds, his voice unwavering. 

“Ash, you know he’s gonna ask you to fight. You haven’t been in the ring in years. You could get hurt or even die!” Luke sounds like he is on the verge of hysteria, his blue eyes wide and shiny, and oh. Now it makes sense. Valentine is the guy that owns the underground fighting ring that Ashton used to fight in. From Harry’s understanding, those can get very dangerous and messy. It’s no wonder Luke, Louis and Niall are having such a negative reaction. Harry doesn't want him to do it either, and he doesn't even really know Ashton. 

“Just because I haven’t been in the ring in years doesn’t mean I forgot how to fight. I can handle myself. If I die, then I die. I will tell him to give you the info afterwards, so you can relay it to Louis,” Ashton says to Luke, his legs jogging as he wrings his long fingers. It’s the first time he has looked nervous during this whole conversation. 

“No. Ashton. Please. There has to be another way,” Luke begs, and Harry feels like he is eavesdropping on an intimate conversation. He averts his gaze, finding Louis and Niall have done the same. It seems that they are under the impression that if Luke can’t talk him out of it, then they won’t be able to either. If he’s anything like Louis though, Harry knows he won’t be swayed. He has a feeling that the two men are a lot alike in this. 

“I can’t think of anything. Valentine is the best option. I’ll be okay, Luke. We don’t even know if he will ask me to fight. You’re just speculating, and even if he does, you’ll be there to cheer me on. I have to do something. She’s just a little girl, and she is only a few days away from being sold to the highest bidder. If we have the power to save her, then we should,” Harry hears Ashton say, but it sounds like he is mostly talking to Luke. 

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” Luke concedes, but he is clearly not happy about it. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, his voice hesitant. Harry finally looks to where Ashton and Luke are sitting. Luke has his arms crossed, clearly angry, while Ashton seems annoyed with Luke’s behavior. 

“Yes. I’m sure. I’m loyal to you, Louis. Not to Simon or Valentine. I will do whatever I can to help you. I’m so fucking sorry that we’re the ones that kidnappped her,” Ashton apologizes again, his hazel eyes wide and sincere. 

“It’s fine, Ash. I’m actually glad it was you. If it had been anyone else, we would have zero leads, and I would have to turn myself in. So please, don’t beat yourself up. If you two had refused, then he would have just gotten another one of his cronies to do the job,” Louis reasons, and Harry agrees. They are lucky it was Luke and Ashton. Worse could have been done to her if it were someone else, and now, they at least have a lead. 

“So, what’s this about Selley not having a lead? I thought he was dead,” Ashton inquires, and they spend the next half hour filling them in on everything that happened with Anne during lunch the previous day. Ashton and Luke look even more shocked than they did when they heard the story about Harry and Louis' survival. Lottie stays quiet, having already been filled in. Louis doesn’t say what his decision is, but Ashton seems to think that he should take her up on the offer. Luke doesn't really say one way or the other, still seeming to be upset over Ashton’s decision. 

__________

“I don’t see why you have to call Valentine,” Luke says as soon as they are in Ashton’s car, slamming the door angrily. The words literally hurt his tongue. He guesses he had bitten it the day before, but he’s trying not to think about that. He didn’t want to bring Valentine up again in front of Louis and the others, but Luke has been seething since the conversation. 

“Luke,” Ashton sighs, slowly pushing the key into the ignition. Even though they slept for 18 hours, he suddenly looks exhausted. It has been a long week, and Luke can feel his own fatigue deep in his bones. It doesn't matter how much sleep they’ve had, it’s the stress that is making them both weary. 

“Don’t ‘Luke’ me,” he spits, crossing his arms over his chest after securing his seatbelt. It doesn't matter how tired he is, he can still be angry at Ashton for even agreeing to this plan. What the actual fuck was he thinking? 

“I already told you. He’s the only lead we have. I’m done talking about it,” Ashton dismisses, backing out of the driveway. It’s then that Luke notices the cherry red mini cooper that is parked under the carport. It looks strangely familiar, but Luke pushes the thought from his mind, watching as Ashton expertly turns the car, heading back down the long winding driveway. The safe house is in the middle of nowhere, but that’s the point. 

“Yeah, well I’m not. You know he is going to exploit this, Ashton,” Luke insists, refusing to drop it. He has to convince Ashton not to go through with it, even though he knows Ashton’s mind is pretty much made up. He just… he has to try. 

“No, we don’t,” Ashton responds, glancing at Luke while he drives, music playing softly through the stereo system. Ashton doesn't drive without music. It’s an unspoken rule, but Luke doesn't mind. He likes to hear Ashton sing. 

“Yes, we do. Stop fucking lying to yourself. You and I both know the kind of man Valentine is. He’s evil. He’s been trying to get you to fight again ever since you stopped. Everything comes with a price for him.” Luke can feel his anger rising with Ashton’s dismissal. It just makes him irate because Ashton  _ knows  _ Valentine. He fought for him for years. Sure, he knows everything that goes on in their world, but there is a reason for that. Making a deal with him is like making a deal with the devil. He knows everything because so many people owe him favors. 

“It might not this time. He owes me,” Ashton denies, and it’s only making Luke angrier. Why can’t Ashton just admit that Luke is right about this? Why does he always have to fucking argue? Luke just wants him to be safe, but of course, Ashton is being a defensive asshole. 

“Oh please, Ash. You’re going out of your way to contact him. He’ll know that means the information you’re seeking is important, and you’ll do whatever he asks to get it. He may be vile, but he’s not stupid,” Luke argues back because he wants Ashton to just fucking admit that he’s right about this. Valentine won’t give Ashton any information without asking for something in return. That’s how he operates. There is a rumor that Valentine has a book with every single favor owed to him written in it. He’s a powerful man. 

“Then I’ll fight,” Ashton responds after a few moments. It’s not an admission, but at least it’s something. It does nothing to soothe the fear gripping Luke's heart or the fire in his veins. 

“What if you get hurt?” Luke asks, his tone a bit softer than it was before. He glances over at Ashton, watching the row of scared moons tattooed down the inside of his forearm flex as he maneuvers the vehicle around winding roads. Jesus, it’s so hot when Ashton drives. He needs to focus, though. He can’t allow himself to get distracted by Ashton’s ridiculously large biceps that are barely being held in by his tight, black t-shirt. 

“Then I’ll get hurt. It’s not like I haven't been hurt before, Luke. Our job is dangerous. I could get hurt every single day of my life,” Ashton disputes, and Luke hates how true that is. 

“Yeah, but that’s different!” Luke yells because he is lacking anything better to say. He searches his brain for a rebuttal, something that will give his argument validity. It’s the only way to win against Ashton. He has to out logic him which at the moment is damn near impossible. 

“How?” Ashton asks, his tone cool despite the fire that has been spewing from Luke’s mouth. He’s surprised the fucking windshield hasn’t fogged up from steam by now. 

“Our job is inherently dangerous. We don’t have a choice, though. We have to do it because it’s our job. This isn’t your job. You don’t have to do this. You are choosing to do it, which is completely different,” Luke reasons, feeling like he just earned a point in their game. He needs to win this one. Ashton’s life is on the line. He has to win, or he could lose Ashton forever. 

“We choose to do our jobs. We have for a long time, so your logic is flawed. Plus, I don’t have a choice in this either,” Ashton responds, gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles are beginning to turn white. Good. Fucking finally. Some kind of physical reaction. Luke has been fisting his hands for the past five minutes, his nails digging into his palms, trying to tamp down his own anger. 

“Yes, you do. You don’t  _ have  _ to call him,” Luke maintains, refusing to budge in this conversation. There is always a choice. Ashton could choose him for once. He doesn’t have to choose his fucking career or Louis. 

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do, Luke? You’re right, I don’t have to call him, but Louis needs our help,” Ashton says, his voice raising just a tiny bit, but Luke sees red. Fucking Louis. It’s always about Louis and what Louis wants. What Louis needs. What about what Luke wants and needs? Luke wants and needs Ashton, but that apparently doesn’t fucking matter. 

“Of fucking course. It’s always about Louis, isn’t it?” Luke spits, resentment filling every syllable. If it weren’t for fucking Louis, they wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Louis had to go and ruin their perfectly good lives by falling in love with his prisoner. Then he had to disrupt them even more by calling them for help. No. Of course he couldn’t just run away with Harry and be out of their lives for good. He has a death wish, and apparently plans to take Ashton out with him. Fucking Louis. 

“Don’t start this shit again. It’s not even about Louis. A little girl’s life is at stake. She will be sold to the highest bidder if we don’t do something to help her,” Ashton points out, his voice raising even more. Luke looks at Ashton, the image he is met with taking his breath away. His curls are loose today, not slicked back like he normally wears his hair. The sun is filtering through the windshield, a beam shining directly across Ashton’s hazel eyes that are alight with an internal fire. They almost appear green. It’s like watching a lake burn, and Luke doesn't know if he should be frightened or intrigued. 

“It’s a death sentence, Ash,” Luke responds, deciding to drop the whole Louis thing. He knows this is also about Louis though, even if Ashton refuses to admit it. Ashton wouldn’t have agreed to this kind of thing for anyone else. Yeah, he cares that Poppy’s life is at stake, but he also cares about Louis. 

“You don’t know that. You’re literally thinking of the worst possible scenario.” Ashton isn’t looking at him, just staring ahead at the road. Luke hates when Ashton makes him feel crazy for his fears. He knows it’s the worst possible scenario, but he can’t stop his brain from thinking about it. “I’m not afraid of death anyway,” he adds, almost flippantly. 

“Yeah, well I don’t want you to die,” Luke responds. He knows Ashton isn’t afraid of death. You really can’t be in their line of work because you are faced with it nearly every day. Luke doesn’t know what comes after this, but he honestly doesn’t really care. He tries to live his life in the moment even on days where it feels like the pale fingers of death are wrapped around his throat. He shakes his head, trying to get the image out of his mind and control his breathing. 

“I don’t want you to die either, but I guess we are both going to ignore each other’s wishes,” Ashton spits, anger in his tone. He opens his mouth, almost as if he is going to say more but clamps it shut. Luke is pissed. Why can’t Ashton just fucking say what’s on his mind? Why can’t he just let Luke in instead of this constant fucking guessing game that Luke feels as though he is in. 

“You don’t have to ignore mine,” Luke points out, feeling his anger rise again. He hates being ignored, and it constantly feels like Ashton ignores him. He knows the other man doesn’t mean to. His personality is just somewhat withdrawn and distant. It’s who he is, but sometimes it’s hard for Luke to remind himself of that. Ashton doesn’t try, though. He doesn't try to stay present, and in the moment. It feels like he’s always lost inside his own head, and he refuses to take Luke with him. 

“I’m not. I’m just gonna call him. I don’t have to agree to anything. Even if it is a fight, that doesn’t mean it will be a deathmatch. Those are big ticket events. They are planned months in advance, even if the location isn’t given away until the day before,” Ashton explains, but that does nothing to soothe Luke’s fears. 

“Even if it’s not to the death, you could still fucking die. All it takes is one bad blow or for Valentine to not call it in time,” Luke says, shuddering at the memories of Ashton fighting. It’s not something he wants to experience again. He is absolutely petrified of it. The very thought makes it feel like someone is constricting his chest, and he can’t find air to breathe. “You have a fucking death wish.” 

“I guess we have something in common,” Ashton responds, under his breath. It’s like he didn’t mean to say it and didn’t want Luke to hear it, but he heard it loud and clear. It takes Luke a solid minute for his brain to process that Ashton actually said that. What the fuck does it even mean? 

“I don’t have a death wish.” Luke’s teeth are gritted with anger. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't even know how they got here in the first place. Ashton always manages to do this, though. One moment, Luke thinks they are talking about Ashton then the next they are actually talking about Luke. He doesn't know how it happens, but he hates Ashton for being so damn good at it. 

“Yes, you do,” Ashton insists. His tone is icy, wavering on indifference. He says it like it’s a fact and not an opinion. Luke wants to fucking scream. He thought he had gotten Ashton to start showing some sort of fire, but nope. They are back to fucking ice. Ashton adds, “Our entire existence is a death wish.” 

“How do I have a death wish? I don’t go marching off into danger just to help a  _ friend _ ! I don’t seek out death!” Luke yells, his anger finally getting the better of him. The fire in his words hit the ice in Ashton’s tone, creating steam. It’s a thick vapor that Luke wants to breathe in because then maybe he can feel connected to Ashton in some way instead of feeling as though he is held at arm's length all the time. He has felt closer to Ashton the last few days, but then Louis came back into the picture. Just like that, Luke feels as though he is miles away again. 

“Wow. You don’t even realize what you just said, do you?” Ashton asks, bewilderment replacing the ice. His eyes are wide, his strong jaw set into a harsh line, as though he is clenching his teeth. Luke wants to trace it. Ashton glances at him, his eyes slightly wide when Luke shakes his head. 

“What?” Luke is actually confused as to what Ashton is referring too. 

“Not even 24 hours ago, I found you having a seizure on your apartment floor because you fucking overdosed, and now you’re sitting here, telling me you don’t have a death wish,” Ashton bites out, his bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly. Luke freezes. Fuck. He was really hoping that Ashton wouldn’t bring that up. Ashton tends to pick his battles, only choosing ones that he believes are important. Luke was really hoping that this wasn’t going to be one of them since he hasn’t mentioned it yet. He was apparently wrong. 

“That was an accident. I would have been fine,” Luke responds easily because it’s true. He really doesn’t want Ashton to make a big deal out of it. It’s not. 

“What? Luke, you were in bad shape. You were having a seizure, and it felt like your heart was going to explode. You were burning up. If I hadn’t been there, you…” Ashton’s voice breaks, as if he is unable to finish the sentence. His hazel eyes are shiny in the sunlight filtering through the window, like water extinguishing the flames. He bites his lips, swallowing before he finishes, “You would have died.” 

“You’re being dramatic. I don’t think it was that bad,” Luke dismisses, but his heart is aching from Ashton’s reaction. Luke doesn’t really remember anything that happened. He remembers being hot, then very very cold. He recalls Ashton holding him and hearing his voice, but he doesn't recollect anything he said. He woke up this morning with Ashton’s warm body behind him, a swollen tongue, and an icepick splitting his head open. Everything about the previous day feels jumbled and hazy. He did remember that Ashton told him about Louis before he fell asleep. That’s about all, but he figured something bad had happened with the gentle way Ashton had been treating him. 

“Yeah. It makes sense you don’t remember because you were a little preoccupied choking on your fucking tongue while convulsing on the floor,” Ashton spits, and a chill travels down Luke’s spine. He literally doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t think it was that bad, and Ashton’s reaction is so different than his normal calm collection. Ashton bows his head for a split second before looking at Luke, “I’m sorry. That was a bit harsh. I just… You scared the fuck out of me, Luke. I thought I lost you. Can you please stop the drug use.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m not going to stop. That was a one time situation. It’s because I used a needle instead of just doing lines. It got into my bloodstream faster, and my body didn’t know how to respond. I should have used less. It was my fault, not the coke,” Luke responds after he shakes off his shock of what Ashton has just revealed then his admission of being scared. This feels like new territory for them, and he isn’t exactly sure how to handle it. 

“It’s a problem, Luke,” Ashton insists, glancing at Luke again. His face is sincere, hazel eyes haunted with the memory of last night, one that Luke can’t seem to recall. Apparently he had a seizure though. That explains why his tongue is so sore and swollen today. He probably bit it. Fuck. He can’t imagine how scary that must have been for Ashton. 

“No it’s not,” Luke maintains because it’s not. 

“Yes, it is. You’re in denial,” Ashton says, enunciating each syllable carefully. He always does that when he begins to get irritated. It’s one of the only ways Luke can tell that Ashton is somewhat angry. He doesn’t show it by shouting loudly like Luke. 

“So is your drinking,” Luke shoots back, but he instantly feels guilty for such a low blow. It’s true, though. Luke thinks Ashton’s drinking is just as much of a problem, but Ashton won’t admit it. He drinks every single day, just like Luke does coke most days. It’s really not any different. 

“I didn’t almost die because I got too drunk, Luke. It’s not nearly the same fucking thing,” Ashton argues, and, okay, maybe he has a point. He could die, though. He could get too drunk or make a stupid decision like driving. He could die from drinking. Just because he hasn’t come close yet doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. 

“I’m not stopping. I don’t care what you say. I need it.” 

“Why do you need it?” Ashton asks, the question genuine. He glances at Luke, his eyes sincere. All the anger Luke has suddenly evaporates. He sighs, trying to think of the best way to put it into words. 

“It makes me happy,” Luke begins, a small smile on his face. He continues, “When I do it, I feel unstoppable. It’s like I’m flying and falling at the same time. It’s the best rush. It also helps me concentrate when I have to pull all nighters to hack into computer systems or trace phones. It’s like Adderall on steroids. You know how much trouble I have concentrating sometimes, but I’m actually able to focus on stuff when I take it.” 

“I know it makes you happy, Luke. I know you love the feeling of the high, and you’ve always struggled with your ADHD. I get that, but I don’t think those are good enough reasons to keep doing something that is obviously hurting you.” Ashton grabs Luke's hand, squeezing it. Luke feels like he is going to cry any moment now, so he bites his lip to hopefully keep the tears at bay. He suddenly feels very raw, as if Ashton is peeling off his skin. He blinks a few times, squeezing Ashton’s hand in return. 

“I told you that was a one time thing…” Luke says softly, looking down at their joined hands. He watches as a tear falls on the back of his pale skin. He’s surprised that it’s his own. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. He wipes his eyes, so fucking tired of his own tears. 

“I know, but that doesn’t ease my mind. It could happen again. I don’t want to… I- I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Luke.” Ashton’s voice is barely above a whisper, the low music in the car weaving into his words. Luke looks at him, finding that Ashton seems to be blinking back his own tears, his bottom lip trembling. Luke’s chest hurts. He didn’t realize how much he had actually scared Ashton. How much the other man cares about him. 

“You won’t lose me,” Luke promises, but it feels as empty as Ashton's promise about not getting killed in a fight. Neither of them can make that promise. He doesn’t think Ashton is being dramatic anymore. He may have been closer to death than he had originally thought last night, so Ashton very well could have lost him. He sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face. “Fine. I’ll cut back, but that’s all. I’m not stopping. I’ll only use it when we go out or if I need to concentrate on something important.” 

“Thank you,” Ashton whispers, bringing Luke’s hand up to his lips, kissing it a moment later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't THAT bad... and the gang is back together again! See... you can TOTALLY trust me... right?


	8. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton gets a phone call, then Harry and Louis have a bit of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is probably Linda's favorite chapter! It's seriously all she's talking about since I wrote it lol. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_ Won't you walk with me till both of our feet bleed  
Won't you walk with me through the blindness, we can see  
If I set you free, will you promise me I will see you again  
I will walk with you till both of our feet bleed- In This Moment  _

**_Thursday Morning…..._ **

“Hello,” Ashton answers his ringing phone. It feels like it’s early, but judging by the sunlight filtering in through the windows, it’s not that early. His bed feels far too cold. He almost asked Luke to stay over again last night, but decided against it. The lines of their relationship have already been blurred far too much recently. He has no idea where Luke is, but he’s worried about him after their conversation yesterday. He glances at the clock. It reads noon. Fuck. He usually doesn't sleep this late. 

“Hey Ash. I was surprised when I got your message yesterday. I hadn’t heard from you in a while. What’s up?” The voice belongs to Valentine, so Ashton takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He sits up quickly, hoping that maybe the change in position will help him concentrate. He rubs his eyes, trying to get rid of the tired fogginess that is coating his brain. He needs to be focused for this conversation. He hears the doorbell ring. 

“Hold on a sec. I think Luke’s here,” Ashton says into the receiver, getting out of bed. The carpet is plush under his bare feet. He doesn’t even bother putting clothes on as he makes his way out of his bedroom, down the hallway, through the kitchen and to the back door. He looks through the peephole, finding Luke standing there. 

“You still mess with that guy?” Valentine asks, his tone annoyed. Ashton rolls his eyes. Valentine never liked Luke. Probably because he was one the main reason Ashton had quit fighting. Louis offered him a job in the organization, but he was doing both for years, that was, until he met Luke. Luke would accompany him to fights, but eventually convinced him to just focus on the organization because having to split his attention was getting dangerous. Ashton quit the very next day, and Valentine was angry. 

“Yeah. We’re still… um… friends,” Ashton answers, the word feeling bitter on his tongue. It’s painful how true it is. He opens the door, cool air hitting his bare skin. He mouths to Luke who he is talking to on the phone while he steps inside. He looks good. His light hair is getting longer, almost touching his shoulders. He is wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a band t-shirt, under a leather jacket. He follows Ashton into the living room where they sit down, Ashton switching the phone to speaker so that Luke can hear. 

“Anyways. I actually wanted to ask you for some information. There is a little girl. Her name is Penelope. Simon had her kidnapped on Monday, and I was wondering if you know where he might be keeping her?” Ashton asks, feeling like he is sticking his neck in a guillotine. Valentine could either give him the information he is asking for or call Simon and sign his death certificate. Ashton is banking on the former because Valentine doesn’t have any kind of loyalty towards Simon. 

“I might. What’s it worth to you?” Valentine asks, and Ashton can hear the smirk in his voice. Fuck. He glances up at Luke, who’s facial expression reads ‘I told you so’. Ashton just shrugs in response because he has to do this. He has to help Louis, and do everything in his power to find Penelope. He swallows. 

“What do you want?” Ashton answers Valentine with a question of his own. He has never been one to dance around things, so he figures getting straight to the point is more effective. Luke was right. There is always a price for getting information from Valentine, and Ashton braces himself, awaiting the blade of the guillotine. He glances up at Luke, who also seems to be holding his breath, his right ear turned slightly towards the phone in Ashton’s hand as if he is listening very carefully. 

“I have a big ticket fight tonight. Bets start at 4. One of the guys that was supposed to fight died last night in a drive by. I’m looking for someone that can bring in the big bucks. You coming out of retirement would definitely do that,” Valentine explains, and Ashton’s mind is whirling with the information. Luke is shaking his head and mouthing ‘NO!’, his blue eyes pleading. Ashton sighs because… fuck. 

“There’s more,” Ashton says because he can tell by the way Valentine is talking that he isn’t saying everything. Luke looks like he is about to speak up, but Ashton places a finger over his own lips indicating that Luke needs to stay quiet. If Valentine knows that Luke is actually listening, he may not agree to anything. 

“It’s a deathmatch,” Valentine responds, and a chill goes down Ashton’s spine. He has never been involved in a fight to the death. He looks at Luke, even though he doesn't want to, but his body moves in its own accord. Luke’s eyes are wide, tears already welling. He is shaking his head, drops flinging from his lashes a moment later to land on the surrounding furniture. 

“Time's ticking. I don’t have all day, Ash. If you can’t do it, then I need to find someone else.” Valentine's gruff voice fills the room a moment later. He is clearly getting agitated, and Ashton feels the familiar trepidation that comes along with a time limit breathing down his neck. Luke mouths, ‘you can’t’, another tear streaming down his cheek. Ashton reaches to wipe it away, taking a deep breath. He mouths, ‘I’m sorry’ to Luke before he finds his voice again. 

“I’ll do it. When and where?” Ashton agrees, his tone firm even though fear is gripping him. Luke stands, opening his mouth to say something. Ashton acts quickly, dropping the phone on the couch and pushing himself from it’s cushions. He grabs Luke by the waist then claps a hand over his mouth before is able to start yelling. Luke looks angry by the action, but Ashton is stronger than him so he can’t pull away. 

“Midnight. 193 Washington Boulevard. The rooftop,” Valentine says, and Ashton can hear the smile in his voice. Luke has begun to fight him, trying to push him away, but Ashton holds firm. Ashton memorizes the address, fear wrenching his insides, making his stomach churn. He knows he’s out of practice. He still keeps in shape and has to fight on occasion with his job, but nothing like this. Not with someone trained and to the death. 

“Okay. I’ll be there,” Ashton responds, trying to keep his voice even despite the trepidation that has taken over every part of his being. Luke’s eyes are angry, but Ashton doesn't really care. He’s dealt with Luke’s anger in the past. This is his decision. It’s his life. If Luke can fuck off and OD, Ashton can give his life for a good cause. 

“Good. I’ll let them know that The Little Drummer Boy is coming out of retirement for one night only. After the fight, I’ll give you the information you need. If you’re dead, then I promise I’ll tell Luke. See you tonight,” he says, then the line goes dead. Ashton sags in relief, allowing Luke to pull himself from his grip. 

“Please Luke. I know what you’re going to say, but there is nothing you can do to change my mind. It’s happening. Can we just… not fight? I don’t want to spend the rest of the day fighting with you. Please,” Ashton begs, dropping his hands to his sides. He already feels defeated, though. Not because of the fight tonight, but because of Luke. He just doesn't have it in him to fight with him as well. He doesn't want to. He just wants the day to be peaceful because it very well could be his last. 

“I don’t want to fight with you either. Just… for the record, I don’t want you to do this. I know why you’re doing it, and I understand. I just… I’m a selfish asshole, and I don’t want you to. I’m worried,” Luke responds, some of the anger in his eyes vanishing, replaced with concern. He looks down, biting his lip as if he wants to say more. He doesn't, though. 

“I know you’re worried, babe. I get it. I’m scared, too,” Ashton admits, his skin suddenly feeling raw. He doesn't like to share his feelings. Admitting something like that, out loud, is out of his comfort zone, but he feels like he owes Luke that much, at least. Maybe then Luke will feel like he isn’t alone in his fear. Ashton is petrified, but he is already mentally preparing himself for the fight that is going to take place just twelve hours from now. 

“Just… Ashton, promise me you’ll be okay. Please. Promise me that you won’t leave me,” Luke begs, his voice on the edge of hysteria. His eyes are shiny, and he looks like he is about to cry again. Ashton wants to tell him that he will win. He wants to tell him that he will wake up tomorrow and step into the sun. That he will live to cast more shadows with Luke by his side, but… he doesn't know that he will. 

“I can’t make that promise, babe. I’m sorry. I can’t lie to you. I don’t know. I can promise that I don’t want to leave you, but I’m not promising that I’ll be okay. We both know it’s dangerous. We both know I may not make it out alive, or if I do, I could be seriously injured,” Ashton rambles, his heart barely being able to take the look of sadness that has now coated Luke’s features. He hates himself at this moment. Luke has been through enough this week. Ashton is just adding more to it. Fuck.

It’s no wonder Luke accidently overdosed the day before. Ashton is scared he will do it again, if he loses this fight. Except, next time, it may be on purpose. Ashton cannot let that happen. He has to win for Luke. Although, it may be better for Luke if he did die. He would no longer cause Luke so much misery and sadness. Luke may not lose it if Ashton were gone. He could be happy after a while. Find someone that will give him attention and is not afraid to be emotionally vulnerable. That’s what Luke deserves. Ashton is emotionally stunted and Luke is probably better off dead with him being dead. 

“Can we like… get out of here? I don’t really wanna sit around all day and watch the minutes tick by.” Luke’s voice breaks Ashton from his melancholy thoughts. He looks up, finding that Luke seems to be studying him. He looks much calmer now, as though he has accepted Ashton’s decision and whatever outcome it may bring. Ashton just nods once, then pushes up on his tiptoes to kiss Luke. It’s short and sweet, Luke’s lips soft under his. They normally don’t show this sort of casual affection, but Ashton throws caution to the wind because he may not get a chance to do this ever again. 

__________

**_Thursday Morning…._ **

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” Harry asks for the four hundred and eighty seventh time. Louis sighs and rolls his eyes, following Harry to their destination. 

“Yes. I’m sure. You need clothes. You can’t keep wearing mine, as much as I love seeing you in them. I know the brands you like,” Louis responds, shooting Harry a smile. Harry still looks unsure, so Louis adds, “Plus, I wouldn’t miss a chance to watch you model clothes for me.” That gets Harry to smile, his dimple popping. They are in an upscale part of town, an area where Simon nor his cronies usually don’t wander to, but Louis is still uneasy. He finds himself glancing around and looking over his shoulder a lot, petrified of being seen or followed. 

“But you said that they are expensive and not worth it. That I could get the same fabrics for much less money,” Harry argues, and Louis wants to kick himself. 

“I know what I said, Haz, but I also understand your point of view. I want you to have clothes that you love and that make you feel happy and confident. You deserve nice things. If I take your mother up on her offer, then you can buy all of the expensive clothes you’d like and we could still give thousands of dollars to the poor,” Louis says with a laugh, but Harry looks contemplative all of a sudden. 

“So… have you thought anymore about it?” Harry asks, his voice hesitant. Louis has been waiting for this conversation. They haven’t had it yet, Harry probably sensing Louis’ need to consider all of his options. That’s the issue though. He doesn’t have many. 

“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s very tempting. I feel like I could do a lot of good with it, you know? And I know what you’re gonna say. A lot of bad comes from it, too,” Louis says, and Harry doesn't respond. He doesn't even nod in agreement. Louis thinks about what he wants to say next, and has to force the words out of his mouth. “I also don’t want to drag you into something that you’re not comfortable with.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, and then Louis feels Harry’s hand in his own, weaving their fingers together. It’s so strange. They are walking down the street together like any normal couple, holding hands and talking about their future. But they aren’t normal. They have a price on their heads, placed there by a very powerful man. Their future entails name changes and a life on the run or it means becoming the leader of a large criminal organization. They are the very definition of atypical. 

“You’re not a criminal, Harry. You hate my lifestyle. I don’t think you want a part in it. My future is yours. Wherever I’m going to be, I want to be there with you. I know that. If I take your Mother’s offer, then I will risk losing you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to end up in a life that you hate, and that you find immoral,” Louis tells him, feeling even more exposed now. He stops when he realizes they have made it to their destination. Harry looks like he is about to respond, but Louis opens the door and ushers him in.

“Louis… I…” Harry starts, walking through the door. 

“Welcome to Gucci,” a feminine voice says, cutting off whatever Harry was about to say. Louis isn’t sure what he was expecting to see when they walked in, but he finds himself not at all surprised. The inside is clean, every single item having an appropriate place. The hardwood floor is shiny, as if no one actually walks on it but floats above it, like a God. To the left, there are black shelves built into the wall where different bags are displayed. To the right, Louis sees the clothing section, each item hung carefully on a rack. In the middle of the room is an expensive, plush rug, a table, and some areas for sitting. 

“I hope they can’t smell the poverty on my clothes,” Louis mumbles, under his breath, feeling like an old dirty sock among silt stockings. He has never felt so out of place in his entire life, but he tamps it down, telling himself that he can do this for Harry. It may not be so bad once he gets used to it. He glances at Harry, checking to see if the other man heard him. Thankfully, it seems that Harry is too distracted by the woman that is walking up to them. 

“Mr. Styles. I haven’t seen you here in quite some time. How have you been?” She greets, smiling brightly at Harry, obviously recognizing him. Then she looks at Louis, her brows drawn in confusion. Louis feels incredibly out of place already, wearing a baseball cap and a pair of simple black jeans with a t-shirt. He rubs his sweaty palms down his jeans, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. 

“Mila! I’ve missed you, too. I’ve just been out of town on a shoot. How are you? How’s Ellena?” Harry asks, giving Mila air kisses on both cheeks. She smiles brightly at the mention of Ellena, her brown eyes shiny with pride. For some reason, it makes Louis feel less uncomfortable. She seems like a normal person, so maybe this won’t be so terrible. 

“She’s getting so big! I have pictures on my phone,” she responds, pulling out her phone. Louis watches with bemusement as Harry looks through the dozens of pictures she proceeds to show him, laughing and smiling at all the appropriate moments. Louis wonders how well he knows this woman or if she is really nothing more than an acquaintance. Louis has never really seen Harry interact with someone outside of their small circle, so this is new to him. He is very attentive, paying attention to every single word Mila says. 

“She’s so precious, and she has gotten a lot bigger. They grow so fast. She looks so much like you, though,” Harry says after what seems to be the one hundred and thirty ninth photo on the small phone screen. Louis can’t stop himself from smiling. He bets Harry is great with children. This is the exact reason why Louis can’t bring himself to accept Anne’s offer yet. He knows Harry craves normalcy and a family. He would take both away from him if he said yes. Or he will have to set Harry free to find those things with someone else. Louis can’t give them to him if he’s a mafia boss. 

“Thank you. So who’s your friend? A new assistant? What happened to Liam? I loved him. He was always so nice,” she rambles, putting her phone back into her pocket. 

“Oh no. This isn’t my assistant. He’s my… umm…” Harry looks to Louis for help, his eyes wide. 

“Boyfriend. I’m his boyfriend. Louis. Nice to meet you. Liam is still around, but I figured I’d join Harry on a shopping trip today,” Louis says, offering his hand for her to shake. She looks surprised for a split second before she covers it with a smile, taking Louis’ hand. Louis glances at Harry, asking ‘is this okay’ with just a look. Harry looks relieved, smiling so broadly his dimples are out on full display. Louis is glad he wasn’t presumptuous, especially when they have no idea what’s going to happen. It just seemed like the easiest thing to say to Mila. 

Mila tells Harry about the latest collection that has come for their spring line then leaves them alone to look around , letting Harry know to call her if he needs her advice or would like to try something on. Louis has become more comfortable the longer he is in the store, but he is still afraid to touch anything. As if his fingers would somehow taint the expensive items just by touching them. 

“Relax,” Harry whispers directly into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Louis looks at him, a lie on the tip of his tongue. Harry subtlety shakes his head, as if he knows he is about to lie. “I heard what you said when we first walked in. About how they would be able to smell the poverty on you. Please relax. You belong here just as much as I do. Public stores shouldn’t have a social status attached to them. Wearing Gucci doesn’t mean you’re rich. It just means that you chose to invest your money into a few quality pieces of clothing instead of several cheaper ones. It has nothing to do with status. So relax, babe.” 

“Okay. I’ll try. I just feel really out of place,” Louis admits, his tense body deflating a tiny bit. Harry smiles at him, then rubs his bicep. 

“You’re more valuable than anything in here,” Harry says, his green eyes honest. 

“Oh fuck off,” Louis responds with a laugh. Harry cracks a smile too, shaking his head. After that, Louis does relax quite a bit, following Harry around as he picks out items he would like to try on. Louis spots something he would like to look at, but he would prefer Harry to be distracted. 

“I’m okay with it, you know,” Harry speaks up, looking through a rack of blouses. One is a dusty pink that Louis secretly hopes Harry will want to try on. Harry pulls it out a moment later, running his hands down the fabric. It’s clear that Harry is very much about texture. He loves touching things, Louis has noticed. He finds it strangely endearing. 

“What?” Louis asks, shaking his head. He feels like he missed a huge part of the conversation but he swears he was listening to whatever Harry was saying about the different varieties of buttons and what they are used for. 

“With you taking my mom’s offer. I’m okay with it. If you want to, that is,” Harry says, and Louis is surprised. Harry must have been thinking about it since Louis’ little speech. Harry tends to do that. He will think about something, decide what he wants to say and how he wants to say it. He doesn't do anything on impulse, unlike Louis. 

“Aren’t you afraid it will- I don’t know- change me?” Louis asks because it’s a legitimate fear that he has. He knows he toes the edge of morality with his life choices. He is well aware of exactly how slippery that slope is, and becoming the leader of a huge criminal organization will make it even more likely that he will lose his footing. He doesn’t want to become like Simon or Des. He doesn’t want to become so evil, he loses sight of everything pure. He would lose sight of Harry then. 

“No. I’m not afraid of that at all. You’re a good man, Lou. You have been in this business for over a decade but still managed to stay noble in a lot of ways. You didn’t let it corrupt you, and I don’t think taking over the Selley family organization will change that,” Harry responds, hanging the dusty pink blouse on his try-on rack. 

“Will I lose you?” Louis asks. That’s really his main concern, losing Harry in all of this. 

“Louis, I literally followed you off a fucking cliff. You aren’t gonna lose me that easily,” Harry says, with a smile. Louis returns it, feeling lighter somehow. He must not have realized how heavily this decision was weighing on him. “You’ll need someone to keep you in line. Someone with a strong sense of morality.” 

“Yeah you’re right. Wonder if Liam is free,” Louis muses, looking up in the air as if he is seriously considering his options. He feels a hard smack on his shoulder a moment later, followed by a giggle. He looks back at Harry finding his features are arranged in mock offense, but his lips are twitching, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“I was talking about me, you ass,” Harry whines after a moment, pouting and stomping his foot, hitting Louis again. 

“Ow,” Louis says, rubbing the spot as if he is seriously wounded. They laugh together, not giving a fuck that they are in an extravagnt store with rich snobby people giving them looks of offense. After a few moments, Louis’ expression falls, a thought crossing his mind. “Seriously, Haz, are you okay with this? Like can you handle this life, my life?” Louis’ question is genuine. He just needs to know. 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, Louis. Ever since that night in the shower, things have been falling into perspective. Then, what happened with my dad, strangely enough, sort of solidified it for me. I finally felt like I could understand you and the choices you’ve made. I made one, too, that night. When we jumped off a cliff into oblivion, I made a choice. Louis, I don’t care if I’m flying or falling. If I’m drowning or floating. Either way, I think I would always land with you.” Harry’s voice is low and sincere, and Louis has to blink back tears. Holy fuck. He loves this man so damn much. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, just because he needs to know. 

“Yes. I’m sure. Plus, you’ll need someone to save your ass when you ultimately end up in trouble,” Harry says, with a laugh, somewhat popping the bubble of tenderness that he had created. Louis still pushes up on his tiptoes to kiss Harry, not giving a fuck if they get kicked out for their public display of affection. Harry kisses back, wrapping his long arms around Louis. Finally, they break apart, and Louis’ dick is none too happy about the turn of events

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, to be honest. No offence, but I don’t entirely trust your mom. I just don’t know how many feasible options we have. First though, we need to concentrate on Poppy,” Louis says, deciding now is definitely not the time to make a final decision on this. He needs to think about it more, but he can’t give his full attention to it until Poppy is safe. It will feel like making a deal with the devil, but Louis has already done that once in his life and it didn’t turn out too badly. Harry nods in response. 

Harry picks out a few more items as they talk about Ashton, and how Louis is waiting for a return call. Eventually Harry tells Mila he’s ready to try everything on. She leads them to a large room where she has already hung the clothes that Harry has chosen. Inside the room is a smaller one, where Louis assumes Harry will change. Louis takes a seat on a lavishly upholstered chair. It looks like it would be soft, but it’s not. It’s basically there for aesthetics and not for comfort, but Louis will make do. 

Mila tells them that she will check on them occasionally and to let her know if they need anything, then she leaves. Harry then begins putting on a fashion show, complete with ridiculous poses and goofy runway walks. Louis laughs so hard, his stomach and sides are hurting. Then comes the sexy outfits. The ones where Harry’s bare chest isshowing, the dusting of dark hair visible. Louis licks his lips, waiting for Harry to do something funny, but it never comes. 

Harry walks up to him slowly, his long legs seeming to take days to get him to his destination. Louis realizes it looks like a jumpsuit, but he can’t be sure. It appears to be denim, but that may not be the actual material. It’s shiny, even in the low light of the room. The legs are wide, making his hips almost seem slimmer, but his broad chest evens it out giving him an almost hourglass silhouette. Louis thinks he may actually be drooling. Harry turns slowly, popping his ass out. Louis has to sit on his hands to avoid reaching for him. 

This is only the beginning of the teasing. Harry tries on two more very sexy outfits, each one more beautiful than the last. Louis isn’t sure if he should tell him he’s lovely or bend him over the nearest surface and fuck him. Louis decides to keep his mouth shut because he’s unsure if he can form actual words right now. Not with Harry Styles standing in front of him, wearing a short lace dress. Fuck. 

Louis adjusts himself when Harry turns away to go back towards the dressing room, moving in the uncomfortable seat. Surely they are almost done. Louis doesn't know how much more he can take. He feels like he may actually be dying. Has anyone ever died from a hard on before? Fuck. Louis has survived bullet holes, stab wounds, freezing waters, but now he is about a millisecond away from dying of chronic blue balls syndrome. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Harry returns in the one shirt Louis had been waiting for. It’s a dusty pink silk, the sleeves puffed out at the shoulder and forearms. It buttons around the wrists, then up the middle, looking almost old fashioned. Like something a gay vampire would wear in the 1800s, and Louis just simply cannot get enough. He has paired it with a pair of plaid wide-legged pants, the stripes in the fabric a similar color to the shirt. 

“Do you like this one?” Harry asks. He has asked this question every single outfit, and Louis barely remembers any of his responses until this one. He has been in a haze of horniness while choking on his own saliva. 

“I’m beginning to see the appeal of over priced clothes,” Louis responds, clearing his throat twice before he even attempts to answer. Harry beams, and Louis may just die a bit more inside. That’s his man. His. No one else's, and Louis has never felt so fucking lucky in his entire life. Sure, he may have had a sniper’s rifle aimed at his head, but Louis is lucky because he will get to spend his last moments looking at Harry. 

“Isn’t this fabric nice,” Harry asks, holding out his arm for Louis to feel. Louis ignores it, instead standing up. He runs his hand down Harry’s chest, indeed enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric over the hard muscle. He simply can’t take it anymore. He fists the expensive fabric, pulling Harry down into a fierce kiss. Harry is surprised at first, but then he catches on, tongue battling with Louis’ a few moments later. 

“Fuck me,” Louis requests, his voice on the edge of begging. His head is spinning, his dick getting much harder in a short amount of time. He grinds against Harry, finding Harry is getting hard, too. Fuck. 

“We are in a Gucci dressing room in public, Lou,” Harry says, but the excuse is as weak as his voice at this very moment. Louis can tell by the fire dancing behind Harry’s eyes that he is turned on by the idea. Louis has learned that Harry may have just a tiny exibitionist kink, but he has probably never had a chance to explore it. Louis wants to help him explore all of his kinks and sexual fantasies, even the ones he won’t admit he has. Louis decides there is no time like the present, especially when there is a price on your life. 

“So? I’m sure people have fucked in here before, Harry. No one has to know that it’s added us to the list,” Louis responds, a small smile playing on his lips. Harry is definitely considering it. 

“What if someone walks in and finds us?” Harry asks, glancing at the door. 

“The door’s locked. They may hear us, but I’ll try to be quiet, babe. Promise,” Louis answers, kissing Harry’s neck, biting right below his ear. He can feel Harry’s responding moan in his teeth. Louis grabs Harry’s ass, grinding hard against him. Harry’s dick is noticeably harder, straining against the fabric of his overly expensive pants. Louis isn’t going to complain though. They look so damn good on him, but all Louis can do is envision taking them off, which is exactly what he has planned. 

“Fuck,” Harry moans, and Louis knows he’s convinced him. A few seconds later, Louis finds his chest pressed against one of the mirrors. He glaces to his right and left, realizing they are surrounded by mirrors and he can watch what Harry is doing from every angle. Fuck. Louis begins to unbutton his own jeans in his haste, but Harry smacks his hand away, reaching around him to undo the button with deft fingers. 

“Harry please,” Louis whispers, face pressed against the mirror, his hot breath fogging up the surface every time he exhales quickly. He feels Harry chuckle against his back, as he yanks Louis’ pants and underwear to his ankles. Louis subconsciously pushes his ass out in hopes to entice Harry to move faster. Jesus fucking christ Harry fucks like he talks, and Louis is very impatient right now. 

“We don’t have any lube, babe,” Harry says, his voice deep against Louis’ neck, and he can feel the words in Harry’s broad chest vibrate against his back. Louis doesn’t say anything, he just bends over, giving Harry a view of his ass. He hears Harry hiss a breath behind him and Louis smirks at the fact that he received his desired response. Louis rustles through the pocket of his jeans, throwing his phone on the ground in his search. 

“Here,” Louis says, handing Harry the packet of lube that he has put in there before they left today. Harry’s reflection in the mirror is one of surprise as he takes the lube from Louis with two long, ringed fingers. 

“A little presumptuous, weren’t you?” Harry’s voice is coated with the smirk on his lips, and Louis wants to tell him to hurry the fuck up because he is needs to be opened up already. They don’t have a lot of time as is, and Louis feels like he is seconds away from dying from lack of blood flow to his brain. 

“I know you have a bit of a thing for public sex even though you’ll never admit it. I found it in a drawer at the house, so I put some packets in my pocket just in case. You should be happy that I think ahead, now will you please fuck me already,” Louis explains, the last part coming out as a demand. 

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry tsks, his full lips now curved into a full blown smirk. 

“Yeah, well virtue is subjective,” Louis responds, but whatever he is about to add is cut off by a hiss of breath being pushed out between his teeth because Harry’s long, wet fingers are now pressed against his hole. Louis watches with heavy lidded eyes as Harry makes quick work of opening him up. The image in the mirror is almost hypnotic, the way Harry’s fingers disappear inside of him, the glint of his rings the only thing visible in the light. The way he adds a second finger, then a third, working Louis into a near frenzy. 

“‘M ready. Oh my god. Harry please,” Louis begs, not being able to take the sight of Harry’s fingers pressing into him much longer. His dick is hard and throbbing, the pressure from the mirror barley offering any relief. His entire body is on fire, but the surface of the mirror is a cold contrast. Louis rests his cheek against it, trying to catch his breath. He hears the rustling of clothes behind him, and he glances back to see that Harry has dropped his own pants, his dick hard and red in the mirror. Louis moans. 

“Bend over, love,” Harry requests, and Louis barely recognizes his voice. The words sound like they were put in a blender with gravel and dirt. They make Louis shiver, and all he can do is oblige. He bends over, pressing his hands against the mirror to steady himself. He can still see Harry through the other two, regardless of which way he turns his head. He no longer has any pressure on his cock, and Louis may actually die if he doesn't have something else filling him up soon. 

“Need,” Louis manages to get out between labored breaths. He wiggles his ass to show what he needs. Harry is staring at it with dark eyes, and Louis moans again, his reflection in the mirror making Louis’ untouched dick twitch. Jesus he looks so fucking pretty in that blush pink silk shirt, and he will look even prettier when he fucks him while wearing it. Louis wiggles his ass again, past the point of impatient. 

“So good for me,” Harry murmurs, under his breath, his eyes still trained on Louis’ backside. It’s almost as if he said it subconsciously or maybe Louis wasn’t supposed to hear it. He did though, and his dick almost explodes just from the words. Holy fuck. Does this man not realize how incredibly sexy he is? 

“Harry,” Louis whimpers impatiently, and he gets rewarded with Harry suddenly pressing in. His large hands gripping Louis’ hips, the gold H and S rings looking lovely against Louis’ skin. Louis makes a mental note to take Harry for a manicure, the paint on his nails long gone, and Harry should always feel beautiful. Louis moans when the head of Harry’s dick breaches past the tight ring of muscle. He forces his body to relax around the intrusion, knowing it is going to feel amazing once he does. 

“So tight. Fuck, Lou.” Harry’s voice is low, as if he is afraid he will be heard. Louis knows he promised to be quiet, but he moans loudly, Harry’s hips slowly making their way to the curve of his ass. Holy fucking hell. 

“Come on. Fuck me, Harry,” Louis urges, using his hands on the mirror as leverage to rock back against Harry, forcing him deeper. The angle is exquisite, the underside of Harry’s dick pressing firmly against Louis’ spot. Harry moans low when Louis begins fucking himself, and Louis makes it his mission for Harry to forget his inhibitions and let everyone in Gucci know exactly what is happening in this dressing room. 

“Jesus,” Harry mumbles, looking down to where Louis is fucking himself on Harry’s length. After a few moments, Harry shakes his head, as if attempting to break himself from a trance. His fingers tighten on Louis hips, forcing him to stop his movements. Louis whimpers loudly, not understanding why Harry made him stop. A moment later, Louis realizes that Harry just wanted to control the pace. He begins fucking Louis hard and fast. All Louis can do is brace himself against the mirror and pray that these ugly, gold trimmed mirrors won’t break under the force. 

Suddenly there is a noise that wasn’t there before registering in Louis’ ear. He is so preoccupied by the dick in his ass that he doesn’t even notice the sound until Harry’s hips stop moving. Louis whines, looking back at Harry who is gesturing towards the sound. Louis looks down and to the right a tiny bit, finding his phone lit up and ringing, Ashton’s number flashing across the screen. “Fuck. I’m gonna answer, but keep going.” 

“What? Are you sure?” Harry asks, his dark brows drawn in confusion. 

“Yes. Keep fucking me. It’s Ashton. Probably calling to give an update. If you stop Harold, I swear to God,” Louis warns, grabbing his phone. Harry opens his mouth, probably about to protest, but pushes his ass hard against Harry, both men moan when Harry is deeply seated again. Louis grabs his phone, answering it finally. “Yeah?” 

“Louis. Glad I was able to get a hold of you,” comes Ashton’s voice, and he sounds sad. Louis can’t really concentrate on that, though because Harry is fucking him again, hard and fast, the slapping sound reverberating throughout the room. 

“Course,” Louis replies, trying to keep the breathlessness from his tone. He isn’t sure it’s working nor is he sure his response made any amount of sense. 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” Ashton asks, clearly noticing something is up. Louis hears another voice on the other line too, and he bets it’s Luke’s. It sounds like Luke, but he can’t be sure with the way his blood is currently rushing to his ears, well what’s not already been redirected to his dick. Fuck. He needs to be touched. He reaches between his legs, deciding to do just that with his free hand, but Harry slaps his hand away before he even gets a single stroke in. Louis whines. 

“‘M fine. Took Harry -ah- shopping,” Louis answers, his eyes rolling back in his head with a particularly deep thrust. 

“What’s the matter, love? Having trouble concentrating on the conversation?” Harry asks, his voice low behind him. Louis glares at him through the mirror, Harry’s reflection smirking again. How in the fuck could a smirk be so devastating? It’s completely unfair. Louis would swoon if he wasn’t trying to focus on whatever the fuck Ashton is trying to tell him. 

“Oh. Yeah. I thought I heard Harry. Anyways, I may have a lead on your sister,” Ashton says, and Louis’ ears perk up at the news, momentarily distracted from Harry, somehow.

“What does Valentine want in return?” Louis asks, his voice now breathless, unable to hide it any longer, but he doesn't care. He needs to get the question out. Maybe Ashton will think he and Harry are running to Gucci instead of fucking in the dressing room. 

“Do you think he knows you’re getting fucked?” Harry asks, only loud enough for Louis to hear. Fuck. What the fuck? Louis is not expecting this level of dirty talk from Harry and his brain feels like it’s malfunctioning. He wants to respond, but then Ashton will know. It’s a conundrum. 

“Not much actually. I’m gonna go and talk to him tonight. Luke or I should have the information for you by tomorrow,” Ashton responds, and somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind is a red flag. He feels like Ashton isn’t telling him the whole truth. Especially when he said Luke may give him the information, as if Ashton isn’t sure he will be able to. Louis doesn't have time to mull it over because he is now distracted by Harry, a string of profanities leaving his mouth. Louis is getting closer too, regardless of how he is splitting his attention. 

“O-Okay,” Louis manages to get out, his legs now violently shaking from pleasure coursing through his system. He is about three seconds away from coming untouched, and he really doesn't want to do it while talking to Ashton. He would much rather say everything to Harry. 

“You sure you’re okay? You sound out of breath,” Ashton says, and Louis can hear Harry laugh behind him. Fuck. He didn’t realize the volume on his phone was so loud that Harry would be able to hear the conversation. Louis wants to flip him off, but knows that if he moves his hand, he will go tumbling into the mirror from the force of Harry’s thrusts. 

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll call to check in on you tonight,” Louis rushes out, proud of the way his voice did not shake with the words. 

“Okay man. Talk to you later,” Ashton responds, the line going dead a moment later. Louis breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn't have time to really recover because Harry’s large hand is in his hair, yanking him to a standing position. Harry’s chest presses against his back a moment later, pushing Louis’ own chest into the surface of the mirror. Louis hisses when the cool surface hits his dick. 

“Want you to watch me as I fuck you,” Harry says, into his ear, and Louis nods. He couldn’t imagine watching anything else. The conversation Louis just had with Ashton has completely left his brain, the only thing he is able to concentrate on is the view of Harry’s dick impaling him over and over. 

“Fuck. Oh my god. Harry. Holy shit.” Louis voice has gotten louder, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck who’s listening. His dick is throbbing, the smooth surface of the mirror not providing any type of friction. He wants to cry. His calves are aching from being on his tiptoes to accommodate Harry’s height, but he will not stop. Not until he has Harry’s come dripping out of him. 

“I’m close, Lou. Fuck,” Harry says, his voice just as loud as Louis’, now completely uninhibited. It turns Louis on even more. That Harry fucking Styles is currently fucking him in a Gucci dressing room where anyone who is there can listen in. Louis thinks it is turning Harry on just as much, given the erratic rhythm of his hips and the way he is biting Louis’ neck and moaning with abandon. 

“Come on. Come for anyone who is listening outside the door,” Louis begs, and that’s what does it. Harry’s hips still a moment later, his fingers digging into the flesh of Louis’ hips. Louis can feel Harry’s dick pulse inside of him, nothing separating them. He gives Harry a moment to come down from his high before he starts whining, painfully aware of his hard dick trapped against the mirror. 

“Where do you wanna come?” Harry asks, slowly pulling out. Louis can feel the come trickle down his leg, but he doesn't care. He just wants to come. Louis doesn’t say anything, just unbuttons Harry’s silky pink shirt, pulling it off his shoulders some, then pushing Harry down to his knees. Three quick tugs later, and Louis is coming on Harry’s collarbones, and up the long column of Harry’s neck. Louis curses loudly with his release, Harry watching with dark green eyes. 

The sight is so beautiful, it gives Louis an idea. He grabs the shirt Harry was wearing when he walked into the store, beginning to clean the come off Harry’s neck. When Harry gives him a look of confusion, Louis says “You’re Harry Styles. Tell them you will be wearing this outfit out. Also, tell them to bag up the rest. I want to fuck you while you’re wearing every single item of clothing in this room.” Harry laughs, the sound chiming throughout the large room. 

“You really liked them, huh?” Harry asks, almost as if he doesn't believe it. 

“Yes. Loved it. They look so good on you and the material feels so fucking nice. You look beautiful, Harry. You deserve to feel beautiful all the time, no matter the price,” Louis tells him and he means it. He kisses Harry on the nose then, and Harry beams, his dimples popping. “I’m gonna go tell Mila to ring us up. You get yourself cleaned up and meet me there, yeah?” Louis doesn’t wait for a response, just puts his clothes on, grabs all of the discarded items and slips out the door. 

He finds Mila quickly, giving her the clothing and telling her the outfit Harry plans to wear out. She doesn't seem phased at all, but the others that are now in the store are staring at him. Probably having heard the noises coming from the dressing room. Louis doesn't give a single fuck. He almost flips them off. As Mila is ringing up their purchases, Louis’ eyes wander to a jewelry counter. He spots something he wants to buy for Harry, and asks Mila to add it to their items, deciding he will give it to him if they make it out of this alive. He tucks it under all of the clothes, deep into the bag, hoping Harry doesn't find it later. 

“Ready to go?” Louis asks when he sees Harry coming out of the dressing room, his shirt buttoned up once more. Well, mostly. Harry smiles and nods, saying goodbye to Mila as they walk outside. “Where to now?” The question leaves Louis’ lips as he looks around the busy street, a feeling of unease settling over his skin again. He hates the feeling of being watched. 

“Umm… can you take me to get a tattoo?” Harry blurts out, as if he has been rehearsing the question for a while. Louis stops moving, turning around to look at Harry. His eyes are cast down, clearly nervous. 

“What?” Louis asks, sure he had misheard the request. 

“Can you take me to get another tattoo?” Harry asks again, his voice more sure this time. He looks up, meeting Louis’ eyes. Louis can’t cover the shock in his expression. He was expecting Harry to say he wanted to go to another fancy store, not a tattoo parlor. 

“Are you sure?” Louis asks because he doesn't really know what else to say. 

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I think I want a tattoo of a ship. On my bicep. Kind of to symbolize what we survived. That we didn’t sink,” Harry rambles, and Louis can’t stop himself from smiling. He doesn't want to say it, but a warm feeling blooms in his chest when he realizes he will kind of have a matching tattoo with Harry, whether it’s intended or not. Maybe more complimentary. 

“I love that idea. Let's find a shop that will take walk-ins. I might even get one myself,” Louis says with a smile, reaching down to hold Harry’s hand, the heavy Gucci bags in his other one. He smiles, remembering what’s at the bottom of one of them. It fits with their current theme of Harry’s tattoo choice, and Louis cannot wait to give it to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of the calm before the storm.


	9. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Ashton spend the day together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider this the calm before the storm. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_There's no reason to cry now  
_ _There's nothing to forgive  
_ _This suffering's my blessing  
_ _The death of sin is how I live  
_ _Burn me alive  
_ Set me on fire  
 _And watch me die  
Burn me alive- In This Moment_

**_Thursday Afternoon…._ **

“I haven’t done this since I was little,” Luke says, his stomach knotting nervously. He rubs his hands together, attempting to warm them up a bit, but it feels like it’s in vain. 

“Then why did you insist we come here today?” Ashton asks, one side of his full lip turned up at the corner. He is already standing, somehow managing to balance expertly on the blades. 

“Because you love it, and I wanted you to have a good day,” Luke responds with a shrug. He is attempting to pretend this is just any other day however it feels as though their house is burning down around them, and he is just sitting in his living room, watching as the flames engulf everything he knows and loves. 

“I won’t have a good day if you break your fucking leg,” Ashton says, looking down at Luke with worried eyes. Luke bends down to tie the laces on his skates, but maintains eye contact. 

“I won’t. I just need to remember how to do it. Help me up,” Luke assures him, reaching up for his hands. Ashton rolls his eyes with an endeared smile, grabbing Luke’s hands a moment later. They are big and warm, and the contact sends a flutter through Luke’s chest for some reason. 

“Okay, but if you break one of your long giraffe legs, I will not refrain from saying that I told you so.” Ashton points his hips towards Luke, bracing himself to pull him up. Luke stands, his ankles already unsure of how to balance himself on the blades. He almost falls immediately, but then strong arms are wrapped around his waist, holding him steady. 

“You’ll keep me safe,” Luke says, humor lacing his voice as he looks down at Ashton. He forgot how much taller ice skates make him. He already feels like a giant most days, but he is getting somewhat dizzy from his own height. It doesn't help that his balance is completely off. 

“Always,” Ashton responds, and the word sends a tingle through Luke’s entire body. He ignores it, attempting to pull away from Ashton and stand on his own. It doesn’t work, and he almost falls before Ashton is grabbing him again. “Try to keep your ankles strong and straight. I know that’s hard, but it will help.” 

“Okay,” Luke says, nodding his head at the instruction. It does help. They slowly make their way to the ice, Luke leaning on Ashton for support. 

Luke stops at the entrance to the rink, taking a few deep breaths and watching different people as they skate. It’s the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, so there aren’t that many people. Some look to be beginners, stumbling and hugging the wall. There is a little girl that is zipping around the rink, and Luke is sort of jealous. He’s a grown man and can’t do what she is doing. On the side of the rink is a young woman and a man practicing different tricks. They make it look effortless. 

“Ready to try to go out there? I won’t let you fall.” Ashton’s voice breaks into Luke’s thoughts, and Luke nods his head, looking at Ashton. The other man is smiling at him, and there is something gentle about his expression that makes it hard for Luke to breathe in the cold air around him. He loves Ashton. Luke knows this, but he also knows Ashton doesn’t love him back. That’s what hurts the most. Being so close to Ashton all the time and knowing that he can never really touch him. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Luke responds, and realizes his voice may sound a little too melancholy, giving away his thoughts. He tries to cover it with a smile, but Ashton seems to have noticed. In true Ashton form, he doesn't say anything. He just steps out onto the ice, his strong legs holding him expertly. He makes it look easy, and Luke is scared to death he is going to fall as soon as he lets go of the wall. 

“Okay, do your best to keep your balance, and like I said, strong ankles. Don’t allow them to roll from one edge of the skate to the other. Keep your feet shoulder width apart, and to help you keep your balance, stay low to the ground. Well as low to the ground a giraffe can be,” Ashton adds the last part with a smile, and Luke reaches out to smack him on the shoulder. 

“I’m not that tall,” Luke grumbles, leaning heavily on the edge of the opening to the rink to keep his balance as he steps onto the slippery surface of the ice. Ashton is watching him with hawk-like eyes, his body tense, as if he’s ready to grab Luke at any moment. 

“You’re like 6’4,” Ashton says, his high voice carrying loudly around the rink. Luke is focusing on keeping his balance, the ice so fucking slippery under the skates he still has no idea how people do this and how he has even managed to do it once or twice on occasion. He’s just terrible at anything athletic and never learned a lot of these types of activities. Luke is a nerd at heart, after all. 

“I’m 6’2 at best,” Luke responds rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling. Ashton is too. It’s wide, his dimples carving into the side of his face like tiny craters that Luke knows will keep him safe from the storm. When a skate slips out from under him, and he stumbles, Ashton grabs him quickly, right before he hits the ice. Ashton hoists him up with strong arms, righting him. 

“You’re lying to yourself,” Ashton says, with a laugh, as soon as Luke has his footing again. Luke rolls his eyes even though his back is turned towards Ashton, and he can’t see him. Luke knows he lies to himself about a lot of things, especially when it comes to his feelings for Ashton and the relationship they have. 

“How did you even learn how to ice skate?” Luke asks, after he has regained his balance and has begun gripping the wall, slowly skating along the edge of the rink. Ashton is skating alongside him, holding his hand, the rings on Ashton’s fingers cold against Luke’s skin. Luke loves it when they hold hands, and he’s not sure why. It’s something about the way Ashton’s much larger hand envelopes his own. 

“Taught myself. When my mom was working, I needed a way to entertain my little brother and sister, so I would take them ice skating every weekend. That was before I started working to help out though,” Ashton answers, his voice conversational. Ashton has always been pretty tight lipped about his childhood. Luke knows that his dad fucked off when he was a kid, his mom remarried and had two more kids, then his step dad left them, so his mom had to take on two jobs to make ends meet. They don’t really talk about their past that much, though. Luke assumed it was too painful even though Ashton is still in contact with his mom and siblings. 

“That makes sense. Bet they loved that,” Luke says, almost falling but catching himself on the wall. He grips Ashton’s hand to steady himself, but he is becoming more confident on the skates. Ashton has been very patient, not trying to get him to go faster than he is ready for. 

“They did. I also went by myself pretty often. I’d get suspended a lot for fighting, so I would spend my days at the ice rink. It was just relaxing. I’d bring music and just skate around for hours.” Luke can easily picture this. A young Ashton air drumming to whatever rock band he’s listening to while he skates around. 

“Is that how you started fighting? Like at school?” Luke asks, trying not to prod too much. He has never really heard how Ashton got into it. When he met him, he had been fighting in the underground ring for years. He doesn’t know how he ended up there. That’s the thing about their organization, though. They all ended up there in different ways, and sometimes they don’t even realize how it happened. 

“Yeah. I fought a lot. I was expelled from a few middle schools because I fought so much. I got picked on a lot for being poor. For not having a father. For everything really. Everyone thought I was angry, but I wasn’t. I was just… I’m not sure. I didn’t care. I felt invisible, as if no one saw me or could touch me. So, I fought them because it made me feel like I existed,” Ashton responds with a shrug.

“I’m sorry you felt that way. I can’t relate. You know I’m from a pretty well off family. I’m just a royal fuckup with no excuse,” Luke says, trying not to get frustrated with himself. Ashton opens his mouth to say something, but Luke cuts him off, not wanting to hear his agreement, “How did you go from fighting in school to fighting in an underground ring?”

“After I got expelled at 15, and no other school would touch me, they were gonna send me off to juvie. I refused, so I quit school. I got a job at KFC to help my mom, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like nobody saw me. I didn’t have anyone to fight with, so I began internalizing it. That’s when I started… umm… you know... The self harm stuff. I missed the pain. I missed the punishment, so I just started doing it to myself instead.” Ashton almost says it flippantly, as if it’s not a big deal that he felt so intangible, he felt the need to hurt himself. 

“Ash...” Luke stops skating, wanting to look at the other man. Ashton skates in front of him, smiling as if he didn’t just say something so incredibly heartbreaking. Luke knows that Ashton will sometimes get uncomfortable with people being compassionate towards him. It’s like he doesn't know how to respond, so he just ignores it. Luke wishes he wouldn’t. He will never fully heal if he continues ignoring his trauma the way he does. 

“Anyways, I kind of started spiraling. Tried to kill myself and all that. Figured I would just make myself truly invisible, to finally become the ghost I felt I was. Just fade away into obscurity. Become a memory, ” Ashton says, again his tone not giving away the severity of his words. He just says it like he is talking about the weather. Luke swallows, wanting to tell him that it’s okay.

“I didn’t know you tried to kill yourself.” Luke’s voice is quiet because he is afraid he will choke on his tears if he speaks any louder. Luke has had a lot of bad days in his life, so he kind of understands to an extent. He doesn't think he ever really wanted to do it, though. Never really wanted to try. He couldn’t imagine how alone Ashton must have felt at that moment, wanting to end his life. Holy fuck. 

Ashton comes into his eyeline a few seconds later, his face soft. It’s strange how he seems so unaffected by this conversation, as if it’s so normal. Luke knows it’s not though, and it makes him incredibly sad that Ashton won’t acknowledge how traumatic his life has been. Ashton grabs Luke’s hands in the next moment, then begins skating backwards, pulling him along the ice. Ashton opens his mouth to say, “My mom was so busy with her two jobs she didn’t really notice. I felt worthless, so I started picking fights on the streets.” 

“Then what happened?” Luke asks, almost afraid of the answer. He is so wrapped up in the story he has barely noticed that he hasn’t slipped and fell once. He has been trying to keep his stance low, like Ashton taught him. Ashton makes skating backwards look so easy while Luke is just trying to focus on skating forward. Ashton’s hands are helping to steady him though, and he isn’t scared of being away from the wall. 

“Well eventually, Valentine approached me asking if I wanted to make a buck. Of course I did. My shitty job at KFC barely helped with anything, so I said yes. Made 250 bucks that night. I felt high. Like I finally found something I wasn’t fucking useless at. I didn’t feel so worthless. I began making enough to help my mom and then some. She thought I had just been picking up extra shifts at KFC or maybe she thought I was dealing. I’m not sure,” Ashton explains, and somehow they have steered away from the wall a little bit more, now starting to gain some speed. Luke hadn’t even noticed. 

“How did she not figure it out? You had to be bruised and shit,” Luke asks, and it’s just so hard to imagine Ashton coming home every night, beaten and bruised. He knows first hand that Ashton has gotten some pretty bad injuries from fighting, but he was so young then. He probably wasn’t as skilled. 

“I was, but I hid them pretty well. Also, I didn’t see her that often. Like I said, she worked two jobs. I was up all night fighting, so I slept most of the day. I started making a name for myself, bringing in more money and a bigger crowd. Got my nickname, then you know the rest. Louis found me. I was doing both for a while, until I met you, then I quit the fighting to focus on the organization,” Ashton answers easily, and Luke nods because he does know the rest. 

He will never forget the first time he was paired with Ashton on a team. He thought he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he was just so fucking funny. Luke would laugh the entire time he was with him. They kind of started hanging out together in their free time, going to nightclubs and partying. Ashton invited him to a fight, and Luke watched. After Ashton had won, they went out to celebrate, and fucked that night for the first time. 

“That makes sense, actually. I’m sorry you felt that way, though. I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be invisible to your own family. I think it was the opposite for me. I felt suffocated by them,” Luke responds, shaking his head to snap himself out of the memory. 

“Your mom does seem a bit… umm… overbearing at times,” Ashton says, his voice unsure as if he doesn't want to offend Luke with the words. Luke laughs though because… well that’s such a nice way of putting it. 

“Yeah. It was worse when I was younger. After they found out I had a very high IQ at a young age, they started pushing me and never really stopped. I felt that anything less than the best grade in my classes was failing,” Luke answers, some of the feelings of failure hitting him like a wave. He knows he has disappointed his mom a lot over the years. 

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” Ashton responds, his voice so sincere it almost hurts Luke’s chest. Ashton isn’t always the best at tenderness or gentleness, but he does show that he cares in small ways that Luke doesn’t always appreciate. Being incredibly understanding about certain things is definitely one of them, but Luke doesn't feel like he deserves his understanding. 

“It was. I know I probably sound like a spoiled brat. Like I didn’t have the life you or Louis or even Niall had. I had a good life. We were considered the upper middle class. I never had to go without. I don’t feel like I have an excuse for the way I am,” Luke admits, and it’s something he feels like he constantly struggles with. He feels crazy for being the way he is when he has all of these perfectly stable people around him who had much worse lives than he did. 

“We’re all a little fucked up in our own ways, Luke. There is nothing wrong with the way you are, and you don’t need an excuse. I think you had to deal with a lot more growing up than you want to think you did. I mean, how old were you when they started shoving Adderall down your throat?” Ashton asks, and Luke realizes then that they have gained quite a bit of speed, doing circles around the rink. They've passed the same ice skating couple at least twice, and Luke has been barely paying attention. 

“I was 10 when I was diagnosed with ADHD. I’ve always had trouble with my concentration and listening, but I think my mom pushed to get a diagnosis because she thought I could be doing better in classes since I have a high IQ. I was pretty much abusing Adderall or Ritalin by the time I was finished with high school,” Luke explains, remembering how confused he was as a child. He thought he acted like the other kids in his class, but his mom seemed to disagree. Three doctors later, and they were diagnosing him. 

“Jeez. I never cared about school. I mean, I quit when I was 15, but I never went much before that either. I’ve always admired that you finished school and even went to college. I think that’s amazing,” Ashton says, and Luke melts a bit, even though they are in an ice skating rink. He never knew that Ashton admired him at all. Luke always felt he never did anything worth being admired for. 

“But I never finished…” The regret is strong in his words, barely above a whisper. They still seem to bounce off the ice around him, loud and unperturbed. 

“So. You’re fucking smart. Jesus, Luke, you are the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Ashton says with passion behind his words. Luke is having a hard time understanding the words. He hears them, but they can’t be true. Luke has been told he’s smart his whole life though, but for some reason Ashton saying it out loud means more to him than anything. Ashton continues, as if he isn’t making Luke’s heart melt, “You never told me why you quit.”

“My abuse of Adderall got worse when I got to college. I was in the honors college and majoring in computer engineering. I wouldn’t sleep for days sometimes because I took so many pills and drank so much caffeine. I realized I had to take more and more to get the same effect. I went to a party with a few friends, and that was the first time I tried coke. It was awesome. I had never felt that way before, and I just kind of never stopped,” Luke recalls. He’s pretty sure he has told all of this to Ashton before, but it doesn’t hurt to reiterate. 

“That’s an expensive habit for a college student,” Ashton points out, and Luke starts nodding. 

“Yeah… it was,” Luke agrees, watching the curl on Ashton’s forehead move with the wind they are creating. “That’s why I started doing like… underground, black hat work. You know hacking jobs on the dark web. It was exhilarating. Eventually, I ended up hacking the wrong people, but it turned out to be the right people because Simon approached me. I took his offer, and left college that day. I was in the second semester of my first year.”

“It’s crazy that we had very opposite lives yet we ended up in the same place,” Ashton muses, a small smile playing on his lips. Luke has always found that interesting as well. He really is glad though because there is literally no place he’d rather be than working alongside Ashton and having the pleasure of just knowing him. If Luke hadn’t made the decisions he’s made, then he would have never met Ashton, and that is just unacceptable. Ashton is the best thing that has ever happened to him, even if he’s the worst thing that has ever happened to Ashton. 

“Yeah it is,” Luke concurs, smiling back. They spend the next hour skating around, Luke getting more and more comfortable as the day slips by. Ashton never stops holding his hand, even when they switch back to side by side. They talk about everything, but most of it is light, neither wanting to go near the topic looming over their heads. It still feels like everything is burning around them, but he is good at ignoring it. 

________

**_Thursday Evening…._ **

“Let's get these in the freezer,” Ashton says, carrying the two bags of ice he just purchased into his kitchen. Luke follows behind him, two bags in his own hands. It may seem a bit excessive, but Ashton knows he is going to need them before and after the fight, if he survives that is. He tries to push that thought from his head. He needs to think positively about this. 

“When are you gonna start your pre-fight ritual?” Luke asks as he places the bags he’s holding into the freezer. There is barely any room, but they make it work. Ashton looks at the clock on the stove, noting the time. It’s much later than he had thought. After ice skating, they got lunch then went to the zoo, wanting to enjoy the first hints of spring in the air. After that, they ate dinner, then went for a walk in the park surrounded by nature, finally dropping by a gas station to buyice. 

“In about an hour I’d say,” Ashton answers, taking a deep breath to try to release some of the anxiety he has started to feel. It really has been a long time since he’s been in a fight like this, and it has never ever been to the death. They both take off their jackets, hanging them on the coat rack beside the door, slipping off their shoes to get comfortable. 

“Are you- are you scared?” Luke asks, his voice hesitant. Ashton looks up, finding Luke’s blue eyes shiny. Honestly, Ashton had been expecting to fight with Luke most of the day about his decision, but they really haven’t talked about it at all. Luke must understand he’s not going to change Ashton’s mind. It has been nice just having a day with Luke. No drugs or drinking. Just them, spending time together without intoxication or regret. 

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” Ashton responds, and he knows it’s not exactly a straightforward answer. Luke probably wanted a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Ashton has never really been good at those, especially when the question makes him feel vulnerable. It is the truth though, well as close to it as he can say out loud. Ashton walks over to his record player, soft sounds of music filling the room a moment later. 

“I’m scared, Ash,” Luke admits, and before Ashton can think of a response, Luke’s big body is wrapped around him, clutching to him like a lifeline. Ashton typically isn’t the type that likes hugs. In fact, he is known to avoid them at all costs, but he sighs, allowing his body to relax. He holds Luke tight, one hand wrapped around his waist, the other tangled into his curls as he breathes him in, tears pricking his eyes. He doesn't say anything, just gently begins to sway them to the rhythm of the soft music playing around them. 

“It’s okay to be scared, baby, but I’ll be alright. I promise,” Ashton murmurs, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the music. He doesn't need anyone to hear it but Luke. 

“You can’t though. You can’t promise that, Ash,” Luke responds, his voice thick with emotion. Whatever Ashton is about to say gets stuck on the lump in his throat. He knows he has to do this, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He takes a few deep breaths, attempting to steady himself. 

“You’re right. I can’t promise that, but I can promise that I will fight with everything I have to come back to you. To be okay. I’ve always been a fighter, Luke, and this will be no different. I may be fighting for information, but I’m also fighting so I can come back to you.” The words hurt Ashton’s throat. They are raw and unfiltered. It’s such an unnatural sensation, they feel as though they burn him from the inside out. He almost says it. He almost tells him how he feels, but he bites his tongue. He doesn't like the idea of possibly dying without Luke knowing, but he also does because that’s one less thing that Luke would have to move on from. It will be easier if he doesn't know. 

“Have you ever felt like your house is on fire, and you’re just ignoring the flames and going about your daily business. Maybe even tidying up, but it’s still on fire?” Luke asks, his voice soft, and Ashton is confused by the question at first, then he realizes that Luke is trying to explain how he feels about this whole situation. 

“I understand, but we may as well dance among the flames and ash. The fire will keep us warm at least. It will provide light, even when it’s dark,” Ashton says, continuing the metaphor, but it’s how he feels. He gets it. It’s that feeling of dread but not acknowledging the very thing you’re dreading. They have both been ignoring the fire all day, but it seems as though the flames have finally caught up to them. Ashton is ready to catch fire, though. Maybe he will finally know what it feels like to be the sun. 

“I wish we could run away. Start another life. Have a second chance,” Luke whispers, and Ashton is already shaking his head even though he has the same wish. They would probably be just as fucked up in another life as they are in this one. A new location doesn’t change their experiences or their tendency to just get wasted on each other. It wouldn’t change anything, other than securing Ashton’s life for one more night. 

“We can’t. This is our life, babe, like it or not. Maybe someday it will be better. I know you’re hurting right now, but I hope it will get better,” Ashton says, keeping his voice low as they continue to sway. He can feel Luke’s heart beating against his own, a rhythm that matches the one they are dancing too. 

“I- I just want you to be here in the morning, Ash.” Luke’s fingers clutch Ashton’s back, and Ashton can hear the tears in his voice. He pulls back so he can look Luke in the eyes. He has a tear trailing down his face, and Ashton uses his thumb to wipe it away. He keeps his hand on Luke’s jawline, Luke’s face distorted in anguish. Ashton really doesn't know what to do. He has always been terrible at comforting people, so he does the only thing he knows how to do with Luke. He brings their lips together. 

The kiss is soft, lacking any heat of the flames around them. Luke tastes like saltwater, fitting because Luke has always been the ocean in Ashton’s eyes. Vast and deep, with a mystery that Ashton will never be able to solve. He can be turbulent yet calming. He can take lives, yet provide a home. Luke is the sea, and Ashton wishes he had gills so he could breathe him in. Perhaps that's the issue, though. Ashton can’t breathe underwater, so he just dives to take what he can get before he has to come back up for air. 

Maybe the fact that Luke is the ocean will save them from the flames currently engulfing them, but Ashton has seen the ocean on fire and has watched the flames consume him on more than one occasion. Maybe he will somehow put them out this time. Maybe Luke can save himself while Ashton goes down with them. He doesn't know, but he does know that he will continue kissing Luke until he burns, which seems like it will be sooner rather than later because there is now a heat behind their kiss that wasn’t there before. 

For once, their kiss isn’t full of anger or intoxication. It’s not tainted with harsh words or the bitter taste of liquor and coke. It’s just a kiss. Ashton tries not to overthink it. Tries not to ponder the line in their relationship that seems to be getting more blurred by the day. He ignores that line just like Luke has been ignoring the fire. He can think about that line tomorrow, find it among the ashes of this day, if there is a tomorrow for him that is. So he continues to kiss Luke as if the line has already been reduced to ash. 

“Need you,” Ashton says, almost adding ‘one last time’ but biting Luke’s lip instead. Luke moans, nodding his head, but not removing his lips from Ashton’s. Ashton pulls them into his room, not bothering to even shut the door or turn on the lights. A dim lamp had been left on earlier, so that will have to do. He can still hear the music playing from the living room, the sweet notes of the melody, floating through air like particles of glitter, until they reach his ears. 

When he starts pulling Luke’s soft band t-shirt over his mop of blond curls, Ashton’s dick is already impossibly hard. He doesn't want to rush this, though. For once, he wants to savor it. Instead of taking Luke quick and dirty like he normally would, he wants to make each second last because the minutes are turning to smoldering ash and slipping through an hourglass. 

“I love how broad your shoulders are,” Ashton says, his voice sounding almost weak even to his own ears. He wants to say these things out loud because he doesn’t know if he will get the opportunity again, however it’s still hard for him. He’s not used to verbalizing the thoughts in his head. He has become a master at hiding them, but he makes a silent promise to himself to not do that right now. He wants to be truly unfiltered with Luke. He needs this before he’s gone, and he could very well be dead in a few short hours. 

Luke responds by hunching them self consciously, but Ashton pushes a finger into his sternum, a silent message telling him to straighten his back and be proud of his width. Ashton then leans forward, kissing Luke’s right shoulder, then along his collar bone, to his left. His pale skin is soft beneath Ashton’s lips, the light smattering of hair along Luke’s chest a direct contrast. When Ashton pulls back, Luke’s eyes are wide and blue, glinting in the low light of the room. 

“Jesus Christ, Luke, your legs,” Ashton starts, rubbing his palms up and down the thick jean clad thighs. He pushes Luke’s shoulders, and he goes easily, laying down on the bed. He can see the outline of Luke’s dick, and he barely stops his fingers from tracing it. Instead, he reaches for the button, undoing it easily with long, nimble fingers, the zipper following shortly. “They’re so fucking long. So thick and sexy. I just want to start at your ankle and bite all the way up. I may be dead by the time I reach your hip, but I’ve wanted to die for less.” 

“Ash…” Luke whispers, his voice sounding rough already. Ashton looks up at him with a smirk then slowly starts removing his jeans and underwear, Luke’s thick cock springing free. Once his long legs are bare, Ashton continues to rub them. He lifts Luke’s foot, kissing the inside of his ankle before his lips make their way up to his knee, then his thigh. 

“So lovely,” Ashton murmurs, peppering more kisses over Luke’s milky white thighs. He can feel them twitch below his lips. He wants to say more. He wants to tell Luke how he feels, but he simply can’t bring himself to do it. It’s too much. It makes him feel too raw and emotional. He just can’t, so he is going to have to settle for showing Luke or maybe saying it in a different way. 

“Ash, please,” Luke whines when Ashton kisses around Luke’s hard length, even peppering some on his tummy. Ashton smiles up at him, and Luke looks like he is seconds away from choking him. Ashton giggles into Luke’s hip, rolling his eyes. Any other day, he wouldn’t give in this easily. He would make Luke squirm, but today, he wants to give Luke what he wants. He wants to stop being selfish and show Luke the affection he so desperately craves. 

“Okay, baby,” Ashton murmurs before he opens his mouth wide and takes Luke deep. Luke moans right away, his broad back coming off the mattress, blue eyes going wide with pleasure. Ashton watches him as he continues to suck Luke’s dick, taking him deeper each time he goes down. Luke’s moans fill the room, mingling with the soft music and the sound of Ashton’s wet mouth. 

While Luke is distracted by Ashton’s mouth, he reaches over to the top drawer of the night stand, finding the lube a moment later. Thank the gods he has ridiculously long arms. Luke’s eyes are closed in bliss, so Ashton quietly pops the cap, squirting some onto his fingers. 

“Oh shit.” Luke’s blue eyes pop open when Ashton’s lubed coated fingers graze his dry hole. Ashton also uses the moment to take Luke deep, pressing the head of his dick into the back of his throat, nose nuzzled into the trimmed patch of blonde hair above his cock. The response from Luke is exactly what he wanted. 

“God you’re so pretty, Luke,” Ashton says, as soon as he releases Luke’s dick with a loud pop. He replaces his mouth with his hand, stroking it slowly as the fingers on his other hand continue to tease Luke’s hole. Ashton admits “I thought that from the moment I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I eventually landed on your team in the organization. I had always seen you around, but never even knew your name. I just thought you were hot as fuck and prayed that you were gay. I didn’t think you’d actually be into me. You look more like a model than a computer geek.” 

“Is that a compliment?” Comes Luke’s voice, a hint of laughter coating the edges of the sentence. Ashton glances up, finding a bemused smirk on Luke’s face. Ashton knows he shouldn’t feel self conscience about the subtle teasing, so he has to remind himself not to recoil. He knows Luke didn’t mean any harm by it, so he resists the urge to shut down. 

“It is a compliment. You’re so fucking smart. Like I said, you are the smartest person I know, and it’s completely unfair that you also look like a God,” Ashton explains, and Luke beams at the words. He is so fucking pretty, it hurts Ashton’s chest. Ashton wishes he could capture this moment, maybe live in it forever, but he can almost feel the fire catching up to them. He can feel it warm against his back. They will be ash by dawn, but maybe he can freeze this moment. Ash preserves things much like ice. 

“Ashton. Please. Need more,” Luke says, his voice just shy of begging. He nods down at Ashton’s hand, and since he asked nicely, Ashton decides to oblige. He presses a finger in slowly, feeling Luke’s hole tighten then relax a moment later. Luke moans loud and low, echoing off the walls before the sound waves hit Ashton’s own cock, now painfully hard and straining against his pants. Ashton then realizes that Luke is completely naked while Ashton is still fully dressed. Not the first time it’s happened, but it could be the last he supposes. 

“It always turns me on watching you hack into huge computer systems. I don’t know how you do it, but watching your fingers tap along the keyboard gets me going sometimes, especially since I know exactly what kind of filthy things those lovely fingers of yours can do,” Ashton admits, releasing Luke’s dick so he can pick up his hand, then kiss the tip of each digit slowly. Luke’s fingers are so soft in comparison to Ashton’s, but he loves the contradiction. It kind of sums up who they are together, one big contrast. Sometimes contrasting things compliment each other though. 

“I never knew that,” Luke responds, voice trailing off when Ashton adds another finger. Of course Luke didn’t know that. Ashton never really told him. He never tells him anything, and he knows it frustrates Luke. Ashton doesn't really know how to change. He tells himself that he will if he survives tonight, but he knows that could be a false promise, so he doesn’t say it out loud. 

“Fuck. I love the way you feel. Think you can come twice tonight?” Ashton asks, getting up on his haunches and leaning over Luke’s body, supporting himself with his free hand. He leans over Luke, lowering himself to kiss him slowly. Luke moans into his mouth, nodding his head as he bites Ashton’s lips. “Wanna watch you, Luke. Wanna watch you come for me on my fingers.” 

“Fuck. Okay,” Luke responds quickly, hand reaching between them to grab his own hard cock. A shock of pleasure jolts Ashton’s system, turned on by the idea of watching Luke get himself off while Ashton is three fingers deep. Luke uses his free hand to pull at Ashton’s shirt. Ashton hunches his shoulders, allowing Luke to pull it over his head, then he quickly throws it into some unknown part of the room. It’s then he realizes that he can feel Luke’s hand moving against his stomach. 

“That’s it baby. Make yourself come for me,” Ashton says, kissing Luke again, all tongue, spit and teeth this time. He swallows Luke’s moans, breaking apart a moment later. A string of spit bridges their mouths for a few split seconds before it breaks. 

“Ash,” Luke whines, his blond brows creasing together and his skinny nose scrunching up in the most adorable way. Ashton pulls back and begins scissoring his fingers to stretch Luke open. Ashton can’t keep his eyes from Luke’s hand that is currently stroking his own hard length, working himself fast and hard. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Luke. So hot. Hotter than this room. Hotter than the house that feels like it’s on fire. I’ll dance through it. I’ll become the flames. I’ll catch fire for you, Luke,” Ashton whispers, but he can’t look into Luke’s eyes when he says it because it feels a lot like he is saying that he loves him. Luke must have liked it because spurt after spurt of hot come is being expelled from his body as his shoulders rise off the mattress. His hole tightens around Ashton’s fingers, and Ashton can’t stop himself from moaning, imagining it’s his dick. 

“Keep going. Ashton. Please. Fuck keep going. Add another. Need to feel full,” Luke moans, his entire body twitching, probably because he is over sensitive. Ashton hadn’t even touched his prostate throughout all of this. Luke was that turned on by his words, by the attention. Holy fuck. Ashton kind of loves giving it to him sometimes, too. He hates it so much, he loves it. 

Luke whimpers when Ashton slowly removes his fingers. He quickly swipes them through the come coating Luke’s stomach and chest, then presses them back inside Luke. “I want my come to mix with yours when I fill you up. I want to go to this fight tonight, knowing that we’re in this together,” Ashton says, his voice so rough, he barely recognizes it. 

“Holy shit, Ash. I- I want that, t-too. Please. Fuck. Please,” Luke begs, and Ashton is completely unsure of what he is begging for. Ashton doesn’t care. He begins fucking Luke with his fingers, then bends down to lick the salty come off Luke’s chest. By the time Ashton is finished, swallowing what remains, Luke is hard again, his entire body twitching under Ashton. 

Ashton kisses Lukes’ body, trailing a path up his sternum to his collarbone, then up the long column of his neck. He eventually lands on his lips, kissing him passionately. Fuck their rules on no kissing. Fuck their rules in general. Rules are fucking stupid, and Ashton plans to break every single one of them tonight, his own heart be damned. “Want you to ride me,” Ashton murmurs between kisses. 

“What?” Luke asks, almost breathlessly. 

“Want you to ride me,” Ashton repeats, louder this time. He knows it’s a strange request. Ashton usually likes to be in control when it comes to them fucking. He is usually the one on top, dominating Luke and setting the pace. Luke likes it that way as well, but Ashton wants to give Luke a bit of the control tonight. Luke has said that he feels like his entire life is spinning out of control right now, so Ashton hopes this may make him feel a tiny bit better. 

“Oh- okay,” Luke stammers out, and Ashton can feel the nervous energy coming off him in waves. Ashton doesn’t say anything, just gives him a reassuring kiss, then switches their positions, Luke hovering over him a moment later. It’s definitely a different perspective for them, and he tires to tamp down the nervous butterflies in his chest. He spreads his arms and legs out, hoping to show that he is somewhat offering himself up. He is at Luke’s mercy, and he has never felt more exposed. 

“Come on, baby. Need you to touch me,” Ashton says, giving Luke a soft smile as he reaches up to cup his jaw. His words must snap Luke out of his head because he blinks his eyes and shakes his head, as if he was deep in thought. 

“I always wanna touch you,” Luke responds with a huge smile. Ashton knows that. It’s no secret that Ashton has never been big on physical contact, but he has never told Luke that he couldn’t touch him. It just sometimes makes him uncomfortable, and Luke knows that so he generally respects it. Right now though, Ashton wants Luke to touch him in whatever way he wants. 

“You’re beautiful too, Ash,” Luke says after a few moments, fingers tracing the scars on Ashton’s arms, then the moons that cover some of them. He leans over, placing light kisses on them. It sends a shiver through Ashton’s entire body. Luke’s fingers find the button of his jeans, unfastening them easily. Before Ashton knows it, he is naked on the bed, watching Luke’s eyes rake over his body. Ashton resists the urge to cover himself. 

“I-'' Ashton realizes then, that he doesn’t really know how to respond. Neither of them have ever been good at taking compliments, so he lets whatever words he was about to say die on his lips. Luke seems to understand because he doesn’t push him. His fingers find all the scars that litter Ashton’s torso from years of fighting. Luke’s blue eyes are wide, as if he is seeing them for the first time. 

“Sorry my skin isn't soft or anything,” Ashton apologizes awkwardly, and Luke immediately begins shaking his head, blond hair circling his head like a curly halo. He looks so beautiful in the soft light of the room. Ashton is going to miss this, even if he will be dead so it wouldn't matter what he’s missing. 

“Don’t say that. Your scars tell your story. You fought so hard just to survive, Ash. Never be ashamed of that. I don’t even have any scars. I’m always in the van while you all are doing dangerous shit.” Luke’s voice is almost ashamed, as if he isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. Ashton simply cannot have that. 

“You do a lot. You protect us. You watch our backs. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have a lot more scars,” Ashton insists, rubbing his hands up and down Luke’s long arms. His skin is soft and pale, no marks to be seen. “Sometimes, though, the world leaves scars that aren’t visible. Just because your body isn’t marred doesn’t mean you don’t have any.” Ashton doesn’t think he could live with himself if he had to watch Luke put himself in danger. The very idea makes his skin crawl. He just wants to keep him safe. 

“Yeah. Maybe,” Luke mumbles, and before Ashton can think of a rebuttal, he gets distracted by Luke straddling his hips, and Ashton gets the hint. He reaches around Luke’s left thigh, hissing when his own hands come in contact with his neglected dick. He pumps once, twice, then lines himself up with Luke’s wet hole. 

“Fuck Ash. Oh my… shit,” Luke curses, his small hands pressing into Ashton’s chest to balance himself as the head of Ashton’s cock pushes past the tight ring of muscles. Ashton barely resists the urge to buck up, just wanting to split Luke open already, but he promised himself he would let Luke control the pace. That’s exactly what Luke’s doing, and he is sinking down on Ashton’s dick achingly slow. 

“Feels so good, baby,” Ashton hisses when Luke’s ass finally meets his hips. Holy shit. Luke is so hot and tight, Ashton thinks he may actually explode. The fire breathing down their necks has nothing on this sensation. Ashton doesn't know the last time they had sex when they were both sober. He’s honestly not sure if it has ever actually happened, so this is a new experience for both of them. He is suddenly worried that Luke won’t enjoy it because he’s sober. Fuck. 

“Never felt this good,” Luke says, almost as if he read Ashton’s mind. Ashton knows he can’t, and he doesn't think Luke is lying. His eyes are closed in bliss, and he says it almost as if he didn’t mean the words to meet the hot air around them. Ashton tangles his fingers in Luke’s hair, pulling him down into a soft kiss. That must give Luke the inspiration to begin moving, and holy shit. 

“Luke. Fuck. That’s it. Ride me,” Ashton says between kisses, and Luke begins to pick up the pace. His rhythm is slow and steady, but Ashton is quickly approaching his own orgasm. He reaches between their body’s, grasping Luke’s dick. Luke’s responding moan into his mouth is swallowed, their kisses becoming sloppy. 

“Love it when you fill me up. Love it when you’re inside me. No one else. Don’t want anyone else inside me. Only you, Ash. Only you,” Luke murmurs, and Ashton wonders if it’s in response to the last time they had sex and Ashton had accused him of liking to fuck other people. Ashton tries not to think about that day, though. It seems like forever ago, and it’s the lowest he had felt in a while. He feels high right now though. 

“Luke, please remember me when I’m gone. I hope you think highly of me. I know I haven’t always been the best person to you,” Ashton suddenly says, breaking their kiss to look into Luke’s eyes. Luke’s hips never stop moving with his confession, but his eyes are shiny with what could be unshed tears. It felt important for Ashton to say that though, and he hopes Luke understands Ashton’s double meaning about the word high. 

“Don’t say that, Ashton. Please. You’re not supposed to leave me,” Luke replies, and he sounds like he is seconds away from bursting into tears. Ashton grips his hips, trying to get him to stop, so they can talk about this, even though he knows neither of them truly want to. They would rather ignore it and live on false hope. 

“I- I don’t wanna leave you, Luke. I hope you know that. I meant what I said. I’m stubborn. I’ll catch fire before I leave,” Ashton responds, barely getting the words out because of the pleasure currently coursing through his system. Luke hasn’t stopped. In fact, his hips have started moving faster, the pace now almost punishing as he bounces on Ashton’s dick. Ashton has matched the movement of his hand with it, his lubed up fingers helping the slide as he strokes Luke’s hard length. 

“I don’t deserve that. Don’t burn for me, Ash. I don’t deserve ashes,” Luke responds, between labored breaths. Ashton can’t think anymore. He barely has any idea what he’s saying. He is so fucking close to coming, he can’t even breathe. He wants Luke to come with him. He never has before, and tonight is a night of firsts. He wants Luke to come with him, so he forces himself to hold off. 

“Too late. You deserve it. You deserve everything I can give you, even though it’s not much. We’re burning, Luke. Come with me. Burn with me,” Ashton begs, pulling Luke’s mouth to his. Luke screams, and Ashton feels a hot, sticky substance on his chest seconds later. Ashton follows him, coming inside Luke with a grunt as he grips his hips. Luke whimpers, collapsing on his chest once he knows that Ashton has finished. They lay like that, breathing each other in. It’s better than inhaling the smoke of their burning room. Ashton lays there, enjoying what could be his last moment with Luke, the flames reflecting in his blue eyes as their world burns around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up!


	10. Hold Me While You Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashton fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... So.... WARNING... THIS IS WHERE THE FIC EARNS ITS GRAPHIC DEPCITION OF VIOLENCE TAG. 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, how are you all? I hope this chapter finds you well and that you enjoy it! It's a lot... like a lot. If you want to discuss it with me before you read it, my sm DMs are open. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_And hold me while you wait  
_ _I wish that I was good enough  
_ _If only I could wake you up  
_ _My love, my love, my love, my love  
_ _Won't you stay a while?  
_ _I wish you'd cared a little more  
_ I wish you'd told me this before  
 _My love, my love, my love, my love_  
 _Won't you stay a while?- Lewis Capaldi_

**_Thursday Night…._ **

“I think this is the place,” Luke says quietly, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands hurt. His stomach is twisting uncomfortably, and he is so nervous he feels like he is seconds away from a panic attack. He glances over at Ashton who is eyeing the building. He doesn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he looks completely composed. He’s not even wringing his hands or jogging his leg. Luke doesn't understand how he does it. Luke feels like he is seconds away from jumping out of his skin, and he’s not even the one that is going to be fighting in a death match. 

“Yeah. We’re a bit early, but we’re supposed to be,” Ashton comments finally, eyes finding Luke’s in the dark vehicle. Luke nods, unsure of what he’s supposed to do. He just takes a deep breath and parks the car, expertly maneuvering it into a space. Fuck. He hates this, but Ashton’s jaw is set. Nothing is going to change his mind at this point, and Luke is just going to have to accept it. He just… he can’t bear the thought of losing Ashton especially not in the same week that he lost Riley. 

Luke turns off the vehicle, a quiet settling over the small space. Neither of them speak or even move, frozen in time, but Luke can feel them already begin to melt. Luke kind of wants to step into the flames. It’s too late. They may as well both be dead. The smoke of the night has finally caught up to them. It has the distinct stench of trepidation and feels like it is smothering him. He can’t inhale, but he needs to breathe soon. He just can’t seem to fucking breathe. 

“I need to get up there. Not long before I’ve gotta fight, and I need to prepare my mind and body some more.” Ashton is the first to break the silence, his voice almost quiet, as if he doesn't want to. It still feels like everything is muted, though. Ashton feels so far away from him again. Luke just wants to touch him, like he had at Ashton’s house, but he can feel Ashton mentally pulling away. Luke nods once, not trusting his own voice at this moment in time. 

Ashton opens the door, the cool night air whooshing inside. It’s not as cold as it has been, the first signs of spring finally peaking through. Luke is thankful. He hates the winter. It alway makes him sad to see everything die. He should be used to death by now, but he doesn't think it’s ever something that he will be able to completely accept. When Luke finally brings himself to get out of the car and join Ashton, the other man reaches out to hold his hand. 

“Valentine knows to tell you the information about Penelope if something… you know… um… happens to me,” Ashton says, opening the door and ushering them both inside. He says it so casually, but Luke’s heart feels like it stops for a split second before it somehow begins again. He has a massive headache. It’s been a whole 12 hours since he last had some coke, and he is beginning to feel the consequences of his actions. He ran out, though, using the last this morning before he went to Ashton’s place. He plans to go and get some more from Cherry tonight regardless of the outcome. 

“Okay. As long as you trust his word,” Luke responds because he certainly doesn’t trust a single fucking thing Valentine says. Inside the building looks very similar to Luke’s apartment complex, but completely abandoned. He doubts the elevator works, so they begin climbing up the ten flights of stairs to the rooftop where the fight will be held. Each step echoes off the empty stairwell, and Luke doesn't understand how because the place feels like it is taken up by something large and tangible. How does sound bounce off flames? 

“I do,” Ashton assures, squeezing Luke’s hand and giving him a small smile. Luke tries to return it, but he thinks it comes off as more of a grimace. He’s always been shit at hiding his emotions. Ashton can always see right through him, but they are ignoring it. They are ignoring everything right now, which… well… that’s very normal for their relationship. They fuck. They fight. Ashton calls him a psycho. Luke tries to leave, but Ashton never lets him go. It’s a cycle, but they may finally break it tonight, but not in the way that Luke had hoped. 

“In my backpack is a first aid kit. It should have all of the essentials to get us back to my place. In the ensuite there are more supplies. You’ll find everything there like bandages and some pretty strong meds. Avoid taking me to the hospital at all costs or calling the docs or staff. They will ask too many questions. Simon’s already suspicious enough,” Ashton rambles, his voice finally revealing a hint of anxiety. 

“I know, Ash,” Luke cuts him off, his voice louder than he had anticipated. Ashton looks startled, his steps halting for a split second before continuing. “I just mean… this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been here for this before. The fight. The aftercare. I don’t think I can forget how to take care of you, babe.” 

“I know. I trust you, Luke,” Ashton responds, and Luke’s heart warms with his words. They continue walking in silence. Luke opens his mouth to speak a dozen times, but sound never makes its way out, getting lost in the smoke of his burning world. 

He just… he isn’t sure what to say that won’t be a total fucking mistake. His mind is screaming at him to tell Ashton how he feels about him, but he doesn’t want to drop something like that on Ashton right before something this important. He can’t risk doing anything that will distract Ashton, so he stays quiet and lets the words die in the flames along with everything else. 

“Okay. I have to go meet Valentine. I’ll see you in the crowd,” Ashton says, his smile wide, too wide. Luke blinks back tears, his eyes actually stinging. He can’t cry. He has to be strong for Ashton for once in his life. He can do this. He can be the strong one. He can be there for him. 

Luke makes a silent promise to himself that if Ashton survives, he will tell him his feelings. He will stop sleeping with Cherry. He will clean himself up and be the person Ashton deserves. He will do everything he can to make this work because now that the possibility of a future with Ashton is hanging by a thread, Luke realizes how much he wants it. He doesn't care if Ashton doesn’t love him back. He can make Ashton love him. He can change. He will change. 

“Yeah. Good luck, Ashton. I-I…” Luke’s words trail off. What is he supposed to say? He wants to breathe Ashton in forever, instead of this fucking smoke. He wants to feel Ashton all over his skin like a warm spring day. He wants Ashton in his veins and not the fucking drugs he’s been using as a substitute all these damn years. He can’t say any of that, though. So he bows his head and finishes “I-I hope I don’t have to just remember you. I promise though. When I think of you, it will be in the highest possible way. I never wanna come down.” 

“We won’t crash and burn. Not this time,” Ashton says, leaning in and kissing him. His big hand comes to cup Luke’s jaw. It’s gentle, though, none of their normal skin-searing flames. No. This kiss acts as a balm that somehow soothes Luke’s soul. It’s over before it starts, Ashton pulling away. Luke feels Ashton’s thumb swipe under his eye. He hadn't even realized he was crying. “I’ll see you on the other side.” 

“You better,” Luke whispers, and with one last soft kiss, Ashton disappears down the hallway. Luke turns around, wiping his eyes, clinging to Ashton’s backpack like it will somehow bring him back. He takes a few deep breaths, finding the entrance to the rooftop easily. He gives a large man the password, to allow him on the rooftop, then climbs the final set of stairs until he is on the rooftop. 

His head spins as soon as his feet hit the surface and his brain is able to process that he is now ten stories up. There is already a crowd, the rooftop below his feet creaking under his weight. He looks around. There is barely even a ledge surrounding the rooftop, nothing to stop someone, including the fighters, from falling off the roof entirely. If the ceiling doesn’t collapse, then someone could very well fall to their death. This whole thing is so dangerous, Luke feels sick. 

“Want a smoke?” Comes a voice from beside him. Luke was so spaced out, lost in his worry for Ashton, he hadn’t even realized that the crowd had gotten larger. He is standing mostly in the middle, knowing where the actual fight will take place. He wants to be as close as possible. He has no idea how much time has passed since he got there, but he thinks they are nearing the starting time. He gulps back anxiety, begging whatever god that so happens to be listening to just stop time. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” The voice says again, and Luke snaps out of it, shaking his head and looking at the man who is standing on his right. He has short, bright green hair that makes the angle of his high cheekbones stand out. Tattoos litter every inch of visible skin, peeks of tan skin between the harsh black lines. One of his ears is pierced as well as his left nostril. He is much shorter than Luke and skinny. His honey brown eyes are boring into Luke, concern creasing his naturally dark brows. 

“Oh… what?” Luke asks, replaying the movement of the man’s lips over and over in his head but still unable to determine what he actually said. 

“Well first I asked if you want a smoke, then I asked if you were okay,” the man responds with a small smile. 

“Oh… yeah… I’m fine. Just anxious for the fight to start,” Luke stutters out. It’s not a lie.

“Got a big bet down?” he asks, the words all flowing together. Luke has noticed that the man mumbles when he talks a bit, so it’s harder for Luke to pay attention because he can’t really read his lips like he would most of the time. 

“Um.. yeah. I guess you could say that,” Luke responds, wanting to keep most of his answers vague. The stakes are just much more than monetary for him. 

“Yeah. When I heard The Little Drummer Boy was coming out of retirement, I knew I didn’t want to miss it. Sandman is undefeated, so it should be a fucking awesome fight,” he says, excitement lacing his voice and making him actually enunciate his words. It’s strange hearing someone talk about the fight like this, from the perspective of an outsider. His words make Luke feel even more nauseated though. Ashton didn’t tell him that this Sandman guy was undefeated. Fuck. 

“Yeah. It should be a good one. I’m rooting for LDB,” Luke says, the initials easily coming back to him. That’s how they always abbreviated Ashton’s nickname, and the man he is speaking with has obviously heard it before, his eyes understanding. 

“Yeah… that’s who my money is on. Did you want a smoke, by the way?” He asks, holding up a pack of cigarettes. Luke nods his head, taking one from the packet then using the proffered lighter. Maybe it will help his anxiety. He feels like he’s been inhaling smoke all damn day anyway, so may as well make it somewhat calming.

“You used LDB’s nickname, so you’re not new here, but I’ve never seen you here before. I’m Zayn by the way,” he introduces, holding out a tattooed hand to shake. Luke switches his cigarette to his left hand, grabbing Zayn’s hand with his right. 

“Luke, and yeah I haven’t been here in awhile. I used to be a regular. I’m just here because LDB came out of retirement,” Luke explains, which again, isn’t a lie. That’s literally the only reason why he is here. He hates this shit so much. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, releasing the smoke from his lungs a moment later. It does very little to calm him, though. He needs something much stronger, but he can’t be high when he will be responsible for taking care of a possibly very injured Ashton. 

“Does Valentine usually come to these?” Zayn asks, changing the subject somewhat. Luke isn’t surprised by the mention of Valentine’s name. Everyone who’s anyone in the business knows him. He is one of the people who usually plays both sides which almost makes him more powerful than both Simon and Selley. 

“Not usually, but this one is special,” Luke responds, looking around the crowd and sees some familiar faces. Others, he doesn't recognize at all. It really has been a while, and Luke had always hoped to never see most of them again. 

“Good. I need to talk to him.” Zayn’s eyes are also scanning the crowd, and Luke tries to cover the shock on his face. What would this man want with Valentine? Also, Valentine won’t speak to just anyone. He’s a difficult person to get in touch with, so you have to have some kind of pull or power in order to even get him to glance in your direction. 

“Where are you from?” Luke asks curiously because he isn’t sure how much he trusts Zayn. Sharing your cigs doesn’t make you a good person. Luke inhales some more smoke, blowing it out from the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s starting,” Zayn says, and the uncomfortable feeling in Luke’s gut intensifies, his breath stopping in his lungs. He doesn't even remember what he was asking Zayn because his eyes are now trained on the entrance to the rooftop, Valentine coming out to stand in the middle of the crowd. Luke feels hands pushing at his back, trying to shove him out of the way to get the best possible view. Luke doesn’t budge though. 

Luke looks around, noticing a lot of people on the rooftops of the taller buildings surrounding them, looking down at them with a hawk's eye view. This is probably the biggest crowd that Luke has ever seen at one of these fights, and he swallows down his nerves. He tells himself to keep breathing, that he has to be strong for Ashton. 

“Thank you all for coming out tonight to see the return of the Little Drummer Boy. He will be battling the undefeated Sandman in a fight to the death,” Valentine announces, the crowd cheering at the mention of the two names. Luke doesn't move. He feels like he can’t. It’s all so surreal. He can’t even believe that it’s happening. “In case you all don’t know the rules, the crowd is not allowed to interfere in the fight in any way. This means you cannot jump in to help. Only _I_ may interfere. I will kill anyone who messes up this fight.” 

Valentine keeps talking to the crowd, but Luke isn’t listening anymore. His eyes are fixed on the two men who just walked into the middle of the circle. Ashton’s strong jaw is set into a harsh line, a mouthpiece making his lips jut out. It’s the only form of protection they’re allowed, and Luke is thankful that he won’t mess up his beautiful smile. Although, it won’t do much good if he’s dead, and he never smiles again. That thought sends a stabbing sensation through Luke’s chest. 

It’s then that Luke notices Ashton isn’t wearing a shirt, despite the cold night air. Shirts are really just a liability, though. It’s better if your opponent doesn't have anything to grab on to. Luke has never seen Ashton fight in a shirt. He is wearing sweatpants, his feet also bare. He doesn't look cold though, so Luke assumes he’s fine. It’s not _that_ cold after all. 

His opponent, though, is very large. He is probably Luke’s height, and just as broad. He dwarfs Ashton, a determined look in his dark brown eyes. Luke gulps. He has seen Ashton take on guys his size before, and win, but the stakes are so much higher this time. There is so much more to lose, and Ashton is out of practice. Before Luke knows it, the fight has begun. He almost can’t watch. 

They spend a few moments just staring each other down, obviously looking for any weak points they can use. Sandman is the first to attack, large, giant fist flying through the air. Ashton dodges it easily, landing his own fist on Sandman’s torso, the crowd ‘oohing ’along with him. Sandman must anticipate the move because he has Ashton in a headlock a moment later, thick forearm pressing against his neck. 

“Jesus,” Zayn murmurs under his breath, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“Don’t worry. LDB will get out of it. Watch,” Luke responds confidently, his eyes watching Ashton’s hand come up to grab the other man’s forearm. His other hand quickly pushes up against the man’s neck, forcing him to loosen his hold enough for Ashton to slip out, some of the crowd cheering. 

“Do you know him well?” Zayn asks, honey brown eyes never leaving the two men fighting in front of them. 

“Yeah. I would say so,” Luke answers easily, watching Ashton land a few kicks to Sandman’s thighs and knees. Ashton seems to be doing okay. He is breathing a bit heavily, but he definitely isn’t out of energy yet. He is mostly staying on the defense, his stance on the balls of his feet and his large hands shaped into loose fists. 

“My money is on LDB,” Zayn says, as if he feels the need to reassure Luke of this. Luke shoots him a smile, but immediately wishes he didn’t take his eyes off Ashton because when he looks back, he finds Ashton taking a very hard punch to his temple. Ashton stumbles back, blinking his eyes a few times as if trying to focus them. Sandman uses his confusion to his advantage, punching at his head. Ashton at least has enough sense to block himself, putting his forearms around his head in protection. 

“I don’t know if I can watch this,” Luke mumbles, looking down suddenly feeling sick. He hates this. The dread in his body feels like it is eating him from the inside out. 

“I know it’s hard sometimes,” Zayn responds, and Luke looks up in surprise. He didn’t think Zayn would have heard him over the oohs and aahs of the crowd. Zayn gives him a sympathetic smile, as if he knows there is something between Luke and Ashton that Luke isn’t telling him. When the crowd starts cheering, Luke forces himself to look up. 

Ashton is on his hands and knees, looking as though he is trying to catch his breath. Sandman has reared his right leg back, arms out for balance. Luke flinches when Sandman kicks Ashton hard in the side. Ashton rolls over on his back in pain, the entire crowd groaning along with him. Sandman advances, putting his arm around Ashton’s neck again in an attempt to choke him until he’s dead. 

Ashton places a hand under the meaty arm, attempting to loosen the hold and allow him to breathe. Luke isn’t breathing either. He feels like he can’t. Not until he knows that Ashton is breathing freely again. Ashton’s other arm comes to wrap around Sandman’s torso. He presses the balls of his feet onto the ground, thrusting his hips away from it a moment later, pushing Sandman off balance and over Ashton’s head. He then flips his torso, pulling out of the head lock and standing upright. Sandman scrambles to do the same. 

“He’s out,” Zayn remarks, sounding impressed. Luke can breathe again. He can tell Ashton is tired, some of the initial adrenaline wearing off. It’s physically exhausting. Luke feels like he hasn’t even seen half of the fight at this point, not being able to force his eyes to watch everything. He just… he doesn’t know if he can handle watching Ashton die. 

Ashton doesn’t allow Sandman to advance, kicking his leg up high, his foot landing against his throat. Luke silently thanks yoga for helping with Ashton’s flexibility over the past few years. Sandman starts coughing, doubled over with the force of it. Ashton uses the opportunity to land a few blows to his head, but Sandman quickly puts up his arms to shield himself. 

That’s when they just start punching each other, wanting the fight to end before either of them are too tired to continue. At some point, Sandman’s knuckle must have hit Ashton’s forehead hard enough to split his skin open. Blood is now pouring down his face, some falling into his eyes. Ashton quickly wipes it away. Sandman doesn't look much better, his nose clearly broken, one of his eyes now swollen shut. 

They break away from each other at the same time, both men breathing heavily and looking entirely exhausted. Something loud and heavy slides across the rooftop, landing near both men. “What the fuck is that?” Luke asks, but he can clearly see it’s a knife, the sharp, 5 inch blade glinting in the low light. 

“When they start gassing, Valentine always throws in a weapon to help them end it. No one wants to watch a fight between two tired guys, especially when they are this evenly matched,” Zayn explains, eyes never leaving Ashton or Sandman. Both men look at each other, then at the knife, then back to the other. They both dive for it, grappling each other. Everything is happening so fast, Luke can’t tell what’s going on. It’s just a pile of sweaty limbs and grunts. 

Ashton stands up quickly, and Luke’s heart drops when he realizes Ashton isn’t holding the knife. Fuck. He looks over to find Sandman also getting to his feet, the blade held tightly in his right hand. He is smiling almost cynically before he lunges at Ashton. Luke looks away, unable to watch. He thinks it’s safe when the crowd sounds disappointed. 

He looks back up to find that Sandman is advancing on Ashton, swinging the blade towards him. Ashton keeps dodging, backing himself further and further to the edge of the rooftop. Luke opens his mouth to warn him that he is inches away from falling off when a hand comes to grasp over his lips. He looks down to find Zayn, eyes wide with fear. “You can’t interfere, remember? If you do, Valentine will kill you.” 

Luke doesn’t nod because he honestly doesn't care if Valentine kills him as long as he saves Ashton’s life. He just watches in horror with Zayn’s hand over his mouth as Ashton jumps back, then begins teetering on the edge. The toes of his bare feet are curled, as though they are the only thing helping him stay up right. His arms fly out to his side, windmilling to help keep his balance, back bowing. He is seconds away from falling to his death, and Luke closes his eyes, a tear falling down his face. 

“He didn’t fall,” Zayn’s voice says a moment later, and Luke cracks his eyes open to see the pair have somehow made their way back towards the middle of the rooftop. Luke’s entire body sags in relief. Zayn must think it’s safe to remove his hand because he does, allowing Luke to talk freely. 

“Fuck. That was close,” Luke says, wiping his eyes. Zayn is looking at him curiously, but Luke doesn't care. It seems Sandman still has the knife, and it is looking bad for Ashton again. Sandman advances, and Ashton isn’t fast enough to fend him off. Luke hears Ashton yell out in pain a moment later, but Luke can’t see why. Sandman’s body is blocking most of his view. Ashton must do something to get the other man to back off because he stumbles away a moment later. 

“Oh God,” Luke whispers, his stomach churning, the dinner he shared with Ashton hours ago threatening to reappear at any moment. Ashton looks down at his lower abdomen as if in shock. Luke is in shock too, seeing the knife still lodged into Ashton’s flesh is very difficult. Luke can feel his eyes prickle with fresh tears, unable to hold them back any longer. 

He has seen Ashton get stabbed before, but he knew that he could get Ashton to one of Simon’s doctors, and he would survive. He knew that it was just a flesh wound, but being stabbed in the stomach could not be good. There are major organs in that area, and blood is already seeping from the wound. Luke prays that the knife doesn't come out because if it’s in an artery, it may be the only thing keeping Ashton from bleeding out. Fuck. Luke wishes he knew more about anatomy and physiology. 

Ashton falls to his hands and knees, Sandman taking the opportunity to rear back again, this time aiming his foot for Ashton’s head. Luke looks away, but the resounding crack of his foot against Ashton’s skull can be heard all around the rooftop, the sound making bile rise in Luke’s throat. He can’t do this. Fuck. His breathing is starting to become rapid, and he knows he is seconds away from a panic attack. 

__________

Ashton is seeing stars, which is odd for being in the city. His body feels like it was hit by a mack truck and he's not sure where he is anymore. He’s dizzy, the landscape spinning every time he tries to look around, making him nauseated. His head hurts probably more than anything at the current moment, and he wonders if he was hit by a baseball bat. His vision is blurry, but he can make out a large object coming straight for him. 

He moves his head to the side, the object landing on the ground under his head. It’s then that the sounds of the crowd begins to drown out the ringing in his ears. Fuck. He’s in the middle of a fight. He’s been stabbed, and he thinks he may have just been punted in the head. He feels the cold hard rooftop under his bare back, scratching it every time he moves. He has to move though because Sandman’s fist is coming straight for his face again. 

Ashton puts up his arms in an attempt to block him, and it mostly works. It won’t for long. Ashton is tired, and he is close to giving up completely. Regardless if he wins, he will still get the information. Nowhere in their bargain did it say he had to win. He could lose. He could die. He looks into the crowd, his eyes finding Luke’s tall figure easily. 

Luke. Ashton has to fight for Luke. He refuses to be the second person that Luke loses in a few short days. He can’t just give up. He has to survive for Luke. If he doesn’t, then Luke will never know how he feels. He will never be able to tell him, so Ashton has to fight. 

Ashton plants the balls of his feet on the ground, using the small amount of energy he has left to thrust his hips up. It’s enough to throw Sandman off balance, allowing Ashton to roll him over. Ashton straddles him a moment later. Punching him over and over again, his signature move. The man’s head bounces off the roof top, blood running out of every orifice including some new ones that Ashton has made. 

He’s still alive though. Ashton has to end this now. He is seconds away from running out of energy completely. He simply can’t keep going. He can’t. That’s when an idea pops into his head. It’s going to hurt, and it may even kill him in the process. It’s also a gamble, but it’s really his only choice. He can hear the crowd cheering, and Ashton’s tired body finally stops hitting Sandman. 

Sandman immediately begins moving, trying to get Ashton off of him. Ashton allows it, letting Sandman roll him so that he is resting between his legs. Sandman uses his left arm to hold himself up, his forearm resting beside Ashton’s head as he punches him with the other arm. Ashton’s arms are pinned to his side, so he can’t shield himself leaving him no other choice but take the hits. His battered body is not able to take much more so this is his only chance. He uses Sandman’s concentration in pulverizing his face as a distraction, and reaches between their bodies to his right hip. 

Ashton grabs the knife lodged into his stomach, grits his teeth and yanks. He can feel the sticky blood coming out of the wound as soon as the knife is freed. He feels dizzy and light headed, adrenaline almost completely gone. With the last bit of strength he has in him, he uses his pinned arms to his advantage. He has to make this count, so shoves the knife into Sandman’s armpit, pulling it towards his own body after it penetrates. 

Sandman looks shocked by the action, his eyes going wide before blood begins spurting from his armpit, coating Ashton in the hot, sticky substance. Ashton knows he severed the axillary artery like he had wanted. For good measure, Ashton shoves the knife through his opponent’s throat, twisting it then slicing outwards, more blood spurting out a moment later. The man’s body goes limp immediately, pinning Ashton further. 

Ashton’s vision is beginning to tunnel, and he’s not sure if it’s from blood loss or the kick to the head doing severe damage to his optic nerves. Either way, he knows he’s won when he hears Valentine declare it, the words somehow making their way into his ringing ears. He’s freed a moment later, but he doesn't know by whom because he can’t really see anything anymore, the world almost completely dark with bright orbs floating around. 

“Ash, baby, are you okay. Talk to me, please.” It’s Luke’s voice, and he’s frantic. Ashton tries to form words, but he can’t. He doesn't have the energy. He just wants to go to sleep. He’s so tired. He groans when he is hoisted up by strong arms, and he leans heavily into them. He thinks it’s Luke that’s holding him. It smells like Luke, but there is someone else on his other side. Ashton only knows this because he hears a voice he doesn’t recognize. 

“Penelope is being held in a warehouse. 2938 27th Street West. There are armed guards. 24 hour surveillance. He plans to move her in 48 hours,” Valentine whispers in his ear, and he hears Luke respond. Thank god Luke heard him because Ashton doesn’t know if he will remember that. He doesn't know if he will remember anything, even his name by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, Ashton. Gonna get you home.” Luke’s voice is soft, and Ashton nods. Well he hopes he nods. It hurts to move his head. His eyes are heavy. He feels a hand pressing against his stomach, something soft being held against his open wound. 

“Let me help,” another voice says. It’s the one that Ashton hadn’t recognized before. 

“Don’t you need to talk to Valentine?” Luke asks. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I can come back. You need help. You’re not going to be able to get him wherever you’re going alone. He looks like he’s seconds away from passing out,” the voice says, and Ashton wants to tell him that he is correct. He wishes he could pass out, but he thinks he’s in too much pain. 

“Okay. If you’re sure,” Luke responds, then in the next moment, Ashton is being picked up bridal style. They have started to move, and he knows he is in Luke’s arms. The other guy must be holding pressure on his wound because he can still feel that as well. 

“Ashton, baby, can you hear me?” Luke’s voice sounds far away, but Ashton concentrates. He needs to answer him. He needs to tell him that he’s okay, even though he’s probably not. He feels like he may actually be dying. He has never been beaten up this badly in his life. It hurts to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Ashton manages to get out. 

“Good. Can you tell me what hurts?” Luke asks, and Ashton wraps his arms around Luke’s neck because he is almost positive they have begun to go down the stairs. Luke is so strong. He won’t drop Ashton. He knows it. He feels safe with Luke and whoever the other guy is. 

“Dobby’s death,” Ashton jokes, hoping he can hear Luke’s laugh. He does, the chuckle coming from Luke’s chest shaking him a bit. It’s a beautiful sound, and Ashton can die happy now, knowing that he made Luke laugh one last time. 

“Besides the obvious,” Luke responds, a tinge of concern tainting the laugh the words came out on. 

“Everything,” Ashton answers truthfully. 

“Can you open your eyes, baby?” Luke asks next. 

“They’re not open?” Ashton replies with a question of his own. He thought his eyes were open, but it’s hard to really tell when he can’t see anything. 

“No,” Luke responds, the worry in his voice back full force. “Can you see, Ash?” 

“Nope. Can’t see. Just black with shiny orbs. Like ghosts. Are we ghosts? Dancing ghosts?” Ashton asks, now convinced that the stairwell is haunted. A few moments later, the sounds around him change again. This time, it is clearly the noise of a street. 

“Fuck. Okay. I’m gonna put you in the car, Ash. You can lay down,” Luke says, and Ashton hears the door open. Luke didn’t open it though, so his friend must have. Ashton really shouldn’t be rude. He should introduce himself and ask his name in return, but he can’t make his lips form the words. Ashton groans when Luke gently lays him down on the back seat. 

“I’ll stay back here with him,” the other voice says, and feels someone get in beside him. The pressure never leaves his stomach though, which Ashton supposes is good. He could bleed out, even though he’s not sure he cares. 

“Who are you?” Ashton finally asks, and he thinks the car has started moving. The momentum feels weird under his back because he is so used to being seated instead of laying in a car. He can’t quite determine the direction they are moving in, but it doesn't really matter. They had already decided that they would go back to Ashton’s place after the fight.

“I’m Zayn. Big fan,” the disembodied voice says, and Ashton is confused as to what he means by big fan. He hears Zayn and Luke talking after that, but he can’t make out their words, everything starting to sound muffled again. He’s cold now, his limbs weak. He hears the door open again. They must have stopped, or Luke is jumping out of a moving vehicle. In the next moment, he feels strong arms under him, picking him up bridal style again. 

“We should go to the hospital. He’s lost a lot of blood, Luke,” Zayn says, and Ashton immediately begins shaking his head even though it hurts like hell. 

“Can’t. It’s complicated. Help me get him inside,” Luke responds, and they are moving again. Next Ashton smells the familiar scent of his home. “Okay, baby. I’m gonna give you something for the pain. It may make you sleepy. You can fall asleep, okay.” 

“Luke. Promise me you’ll tell Lou. Promise me. Please. Tell him,” Ashton begs, the breath in his lungs actually hurting him. 

“Who’s Lou? Promise to tell him what?” Zayn asks, his voice curious. 

“No one and nothing,” Luke responds, and Ashton knows that means Zayn must not have heard what Valentine said on the rooftop. That’s a relief. Ashton doesn't know if they can trust this Zayn guy. 

“I promise, baby. Now, let's get you something for the pain,” Luke says, and a few seconds later Ashton is forcing himself to swallow down whatever pills Luke has put in his mouth. After several minutes, his eyes get heavy while he lays on a soft surface, Luke’s voice lulling him to sleep as he speaks in hushed, worried tones to his new friend. Maybe Ashton dies. He’s not sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know... I kind of hate myself for this too. My baby. I'm so attached to Ashton. Well.. I'm attached to all of them but Ashton is so fucking special to me both in this and in real life.... but *deep breaths*


	11. Popular Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... sooooo..... The fic is technically complete now... but I'm still uploading a chapter a week. 
> 
> Buckle up! 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, how are you all? I hope this chapter finds you well and that you enjoy it! It's a lot... like a lot. If you want to discuss it with me before you read it, my sm DMs are open. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/%20rel=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_I think I'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze_  
_Every wall that I knock down is just a wall that I replace_  
_I'm in a race against myself, I try to keep a steady pace_  
_How the fuck will I escape if I never close my case?- Falling In Reverse_

“He’s losing a lot of blood. He needs a doctor,” Zayn says, his voice beginning to sound frantic. He just gave Ashton some morphine, and he knows the other man will be out soon. He is already looking close to passing out, and Luke doesn’t know if it’s from blood loss, pain, or exhaustion. Perhaps it’s all three. 

“I already told you that’s not an option,” Luke responds, taking his eyes off Ashton long enough to rummage through the backpack. When he doesn't find what he’s looking for, he runs to Ashton’s bathroom, with still no luck. 

“What are you looking for?” Zayn asks when Luke comes back into the room. The shirt that Zayn is holding to Ashton’s stab wound is now soaked through. Ashton is covered in blood, but Luke knows a lot of it probably belongs to Sandman. Luke has dried blood all over him as well, but he’s not worried about that. He’s worried about Ashton. 

“A stitch kit,” Luke responds, running into the kitchen but not finding it there either. “I think it’s at my place. We didn’t plan for a stab wound.” Luke moves some stuff around in one of the kitchen cabinets, smearing blood all over every surface he touches. His head is starting to pound, a mixture of fear and withdrawal finally catching up to him. He needs to focus. He knows some cocaine would help him with that, but he doesn't have any. Fuck. 

“I need more bandages,” Zayn says, looking down at the shirt in his blood-soaked hands. Ashton’s blood. Luke feels sick just looking at it. 

In two long strides, Luke is in the backpack again, opening gauze and shoving them at Zayn. When Zayn begins to remove the soiled shirt from the wound, Luke panics. “Don’t!” When Zayn’s head snaps up, Luke softens his voice to explain, “The old blood platelets that are in the shirt are helping his new blood to clot. Just add the gauze. Don’t replace them.” 

“I know, man. This isn’t the first time I’ve watched someone bleed out. I was just trying to see how bad it is,” Zayn says, and Luke wonders, not for the first time, where Zayn came from. What he has seen. Judging by the haunted look that twisted his features for a split second, Luke thinks it can’t be good. The man is a stranger to him, but Luke really needs the help. Especially with what he is about to ask. 

“Look. I need to run to my place. It’s not far from here. I should be back in less than 15 minutes. Will you stay with him? Please.” Luke holds his breath, waiting for the verdict. He doesn't know if he should trust Zayn, but he doesn't have much of a choice. He needs his stitch kit if Ashton is going to survive. He can’t leave him alone, not in the condition he’s in. 

“What if he- What if he…” Zayn’s words trail off as if he can’t bring himself to say it. Luke knows what he wants to say, and he feels sick at the thought. 

“I’ll be back. Just… do everything you can until I get back. Keep pressure on the wound,” Luke orders, and Zayn nods. Luke walks up to Ashton’s almost lifeless body. He is breathing though, and for that Luke is thankful. He bends down, kissing him on the cheek not caring if there is blood under his lips. He silently tells him to hang on. 

The drive to Luke’s house feels like it takes forever, and Luke is pretty sure he has broken every traffic law in the book. He doesn't care. He needs to hurry. Once in his apartment, he quickly locates his stitch kit, grabbing a few extra things that he may need. He opens the door, his eyes widening in surprise when he finds a short figure with her hand poised to knock. 

“Cherry. What the fuck are you doing here?” Luke asks, backing up. Her eyes are wide, probably not expecting Luke to be covered in blood and looking as though he has seen a ghost. Not yet, though. Luke refuses to let Ashton become a ghost-like his brother. He refuses to dance with a memory. 

“You said earlier you may need an eight ball tonight,” Cherry says, shaking off her shocked expression and walking over the threshold. Fuck. Luke had forgotten that he texted her. He just meant for her to be on the lookout for a text, not for her to come over. He really doesn’t want to see her, but he could use it to focus. His hands are shaking so badly right now, he doesn't know how he plans to stitch up a wound. 

“Here,” Luke says, thrusting his hands into his pocket and pulling out some cash. “This should be enough.” 

“I don’t want your money, Bae,” she says, eyeing Luke up and down with lust in her dark eyes. Luke rolls his own, looking away. 

“Look, Cherry. I don’t have time to fuck you. Just take the money, give me the snow, and leave,” Luke says, his voice harsh and his patience already running thin. 

“That’s not very nice,” Cherry pouts. “It can be a quickie. Won’t take that long. I promise.” She walks slowly up to Luke, her full, painted red lips crooking into a sly smile. She thinks she’s being sexy, but Luke has never been so repulsed. She places her hand on his chest, and Luke barely resists the urge to recoil. Next, she lowers it down, until she’s cupping his cock. Luke hisses and pulls away. 

“No, Cherry,” Luke says, grabbing her lithe wrist and holding it up in the air forcibly. She watches his hand with a shocked expression as if she can’t believe he’s rejecting her. 

“Oh come on, Bae. It doesn’t have to be like that. Just a few minutes, I promise. I can get you so hard. You can snort some off my tits.” Her voice is low and sultry, and Luke doesn't even bother suppressing his grimace. That’s the last thing he fucking wants right now, the picture of a line of coke on Ashton’s cock flashing before his eyes. 

All Luke can think about is Ashton right now. How much he wants him to be okay. How much he only wants Ashton to fuck him for the rest of his life. How he just wants Ashton and no one else. It starts now. “Never again, Cherry. That part of our little arrangement is off. I’ll pay full price for the snow, but I will  _ never  _ fuck you again.” Luke’s voice is steady, sure. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then you’re not getting any at all from me,” Cherry says, pulling her wrist out of Luke’s grip and folding her arms over her chest. 

“That’s fine. I’ll find another dealer. You’re a dime a dozen,” Luke says, stepping to the side to go around her. 

“Not when you have a burn notice on you,” she sing-songs, right as Luke is walking out the door. He freezes, stopping dead in his tracks. 

“Are you threatening me?” He asks, turning back towards her. He knows she doesn't have that kind of power. She’s a minion at best. She looks innocent, her eyes wide when she looks up at him as if she knows a secret. 

“I would never do that. I like your dick too much,” she responds her voice back to sultry. Luke hates her. He has no idea how he ever got it up with her. Sheer will and determination it seems because right now she is grating on his ever-loving last nerve. He just wants to get the fuck away from her and get back to Ashton who is currently bleeding out on his couch. 

“Cherry, I don’t have time for your fucking games. What did you mean?” Luke asks, three seconds away from shoving her against a wall and threatening her life. Luke typically doesn't get very violent. That’s more Ashton and Louis’ job. Luke is there for technology and the occasional first aid. He has stitched up plenty of arms in his days but never a stomach. Fuck. 

“Simon put a burn order on you. Told every dealer in the city not to sell to you,” she says after a few moments of heavy silence, and a chill travels down Luke’s spine at her explanation. Fuck. Simon did what? Luke won’t be able to buy drugs anymore. No. That’s… that’s not an option for Luke. He has to know why. He needs to know how to get it lifted. 

“Why would he do that?” Luke asks, more to himself than to her. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you should call him and find out,” she answers, even though Luke really didn’t care if she answered him or not. She walks towards him again, her heeled boots clicking on the hard surface of the floor. She grabs his jacket, pulling him down so she can whisper in his ear, “If you fuck me though, I’ll make a one-time exception. You know, doing an old friend a favor.” 

It’s tempting. Luke hates how tempting it is. The idea of never having cocaine again petrifies him. This may be his last opportunity to get some before he can call Simon. He could fuck her. He has before. He can close his eyes and imagine it’s Ashton. That’s what he normally does anyway, even though he has never topped Ashton… ever. Ashton. 

Luke shakes his head, attempting to clear it. Ashton. He needs to get back to Ashton. He promised himself he wouldn’t fuck Cherry anymore. If he wants things to work with Ashton, it needs to end today. He will not be fucking Cherry anymore even if it could be his last chance at getting drugs. “No, Cherry. I told you, I’m not fucking you again. Get that through your fucking head.” 

“Fine. If that’s how you want it,” she says, her eyes angry now. Luke doesn't give a fuck. He just needs to get out of this place and back to Ashton. “Aren’t you going to call Simon to ask why he burned you?” 

“Not right now. I have more important matters to tend to,” Luke responds, turning around again, hand poised out to reach for the door handle. 

“He told me to tell you to call him asap. Said that if you don’t, he would have a car waiting for you after this conversation to escort you to his office,” she tells him, and Luke’s stomach rolls. What the fuck could Simon want? Unless… fuck… unless he knows. 

“Fine,” Luke responds through gritted teeth. 

“Last chance at the cocaine in my pocket though. Come on, Bae. Don’t you wanna do a bump to help calm your nerves? Fucking will relax you. It will be a win win. You get high, and I get fucked. That’s normal right? That’s what you like.” Her voice is dripping with seduction, shiny red lips slowly forming around each word. Luke would be lying if he said it wasn’t tempting. His mouth waters just for the chemical taste of cocaine. It’s been far, far too long. 

“I like to get high and get fucked, but not by you,” Luke responds, his own evil grin turning his mouth upwards. She looks shocked for a second before anger replaces it. 

“Fuck you,” she spits, pushing him out of the way and walking out the door. Luke sags in relief, taking a few deep breaths before pulling out his cell phone. He dials Simon’s number with shaky, blood-stained fingers. It rings once. Twice. A third time. 

“Luke. Nice to finally hear from you. I was expecting your call,” comes a nasally voice on the other end. Luke swallows, trying to keep his breathing even. If he hadn’t witnessed Ashton in a fight to the death a mere hour ago, this may be the scariest moment of Luke’s life. 

“Why did you put a burn notice on me?” Luke asks, getting right to it. He doesn't have time for Simon’s normal meandering bullshit. All of the pleasantries that Simon enjoys, the games he constantly plays. 

“You know why, Luke. Tell me what I want to know,” Simon says, his tone going from pleasant to sharp in a matter of seconds. It’s very scary when that happens, and Luke reminds himself to breathe. His stomach is churning from nausea, another symptom of withdrawal. He swallows down the feeling of vomit rising in his throat, burning it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Luke hopes the lie is convincing. Playing dumb may be his only way out of this. The fire is back, the house collapsing in around him. He needs to run to his freedom, but Simon is in his way, and Simon is a huge obstacle. Like the stairs in a house that’s on fire. 

“Louis is alive, isn’t he?” Simon asks, a knowing quality to his voice. Fuck. Of course, Simon would know Louis is alive, he probably just doesn't know where he is which explains why he put a burn notice on Luke forcing him into calling. 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Luke circumvents the question with one of his own. This game won’t last long. Simon knows every trick in the book. The only person that may be able to get away with it is Louis, and he isn’t here right now. It’s just Luke, at home, alone, wanting to get back to Ashton who is currently bleeding out because of a stab wound. He doesn’t have time for this. 

“Come on, Luke. We have an agreement. You feed me information about him, and I’ll make sure your supply never runs out. It’s worked for us in the past, so why mess with a good system?” Simon’s voice is sickenly sweet, and the bile rises in Luke’s throat with the comment. He’s referring to when Luke recently told Simon about Lottie’s escape. 

It’s something he regrets now. He just didn’t think it was that big of a deal. He didn’t see how Louis’ sister being alive would factor into the big picture, and when Simon threatened to withhold his drugs, he caved. He hates himself for being so weak. He just... He didn’t know. He didn’t know a little girl would be punished for it. He just wanted his drugs, and nothing else mattered. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke insists, deciding he will not be the mole again. He will not betray Louis and Ashton like that. Not again. He can’t. He is trying to be a person that Ashton could love, and Ashton would never forgive him for that. Ashton could never love someone who betrays his best friend. 

“You’re really going to give up your coke? Your favorite kind of high, for someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you? He doesn't care if you live or die. The only reason he keeps you around is because of Ash. Louis cares for Ash, not you. You and I both know this,” Simon says, and Luke wants to tell him it’s a lie. He knows Louis cares about him, too. He knows that now. He bites his tongue though, not wanting to give any information away. “Now tell me what I want to know.” 

“I don’t have any information,” Luke responds again, his tone giving nothing away. “Now if you will excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be. It’s time-sensitive. I hope you understand. I can call you again tomorrow.” Luke needs to get off the fucking phone. He has wasted far too much time tonight, and he can’t bear the thought of getting back to his house to find Ashton’s lifeless body. He has seen enough of that this week. 

“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it,” Simon’s voice is now icy, any pleasantries long gone. A chill runs down Luke’s spine again. He is already dreading whatever it is Simon is about to say. He tries to breathe. In and out. In and out. “There is a car outside of Ashton’s house right now. Inside are an assassin and a doctor. It’s your decision who goes in.” 

Luke’s stomach drops, limbs freezing, his whole body reacting to Simon’s words. No. No. Fuck. No. This… this can’t be happening. Luke doesn’t know what to do. How to respond. Can he talk his way out of this? Ashton needs a doctor, though. He needs professional medical help that goes beyond Luke’s expertise. Fuck. Luke can’t do this. No. Simon is still on the line. He can almost see the sick smile on his face. “If you kill him, you will get nothing from me.” 

“I don’t even have to kill him. The beating he took will most likely do the trick. I’ve heard there is blood  _ everywhere.  _ Stab wounds to the stomach are very tricky. It could be hours. If it doesn’t kill him, then I’m sure an infection will. Are you sure you’re equipped to handle all of that? To be the reason he dies when you have the power to save him?” Simon asks, and Luke feels like he is going to throw up. How did he even know? Of course, he probably had a man there to watch. He usually does for those types of events. 

“I don’t have the information you’re wanting,” Luke tries again, attempting to keep his voice even like Ashton does when he lies. Ashton is so good at lying. It should be him talking to Simon right now and not Luke. Luke is nothing but a fucking screw up it seems. 

“Yes, you do. You’re going to give it to me even if I have to torture it out of you. There is someone outside of your door, too. Either way, I’m getting what I want. I’m just trying to do my favorite man a favor by offering a deal. You’ve always been so loyal to me, Luke. We’ve always helped each other out. I never judged you for your drug problems. Any other person would have fired you as soon as they found out,” Simon says, and Luke can’t fucking breathe. 

“Simon…” Luke starts, wracking his brain for a way to talk him out of this. Maybe he can give him some false information. Maybe he can lie. He’s never been that great of a liar though, that’s always been, Ashton and Louis. Would Simon see through him if he tried? They could both end up dead then. 

“What's it going to be, Luke? Time is running out for your boyfriend. He may already be dead for all you know. He looked pretty bad from my understanding.” Simon’s voice is taunting now, and Luke feels like he is seconds away from crying or having a panic attack. Maybe even both. He definitely thinks he is going to vomit, his withdrawal symptoms are getting worse by the second. He is no good to Ashton if he can’t stop shaking and vomiting. “Do you want to kill him or save him?”

__________

**_Friday Afternoon…._ **

Ashton wakes up feeling as though he was hit by a bus, and he doesn't quite understand why. His entire fucking body hurts. Every time he breathes, it feels like he is hitting a concrete sidewalk at 50 miles per hour except there is no blissful death at the end of the fall. He just has to do it again, in an infinite loop. Fuck. He feels like absolute shit. He hasn’t felt this badly in his entire life, and he has taken some harsh beatings.

With that thought, memories of last night begin to flash through his mind. He fought. A fucking deathmatch. He got kicked in the ribs and the head. He got punched several times. His head ended up being split open. Stabbed. He got stabbed. Ashton attempts to open his eyes, but he doesn't know if they are open or not. All he sees are faint outlines, and what looks like it could be sunlight. He then tries to move, his arms feeling heavy by his side. 

“Ashton. Love, are you awake. Shh… don’t try to move. It’s okay,” comes a tired voice from beside him. Luke. It’s Luke’s voice. He could recognize it anywhere. Another memory floats into his mind. Singing. He thinks Luke was singing to him last night, the high pitched tone of his voice singing a sweet melody. Ashton remembers it relaxing him. Soothing him in a way nothing else seemed to. 

“Lu…” Ashton says, his voice cracking halfway through the name. His throat hurts. He’s not entirely sure why, but it hurts. He tries to swallow, but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of moisture in his mouth. He tries to move again, but he feels soft hands on his arms, keeping him in place. 

“Ash, babe, please stop moving. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Luke’s voice is still soft. 

“Thirst,” Ashton manages to get out, smacking his lips. He thinks his eyes are open, but he doesn't understand why he can’t see. 

“You’re thirsty? Hold on. I have some water right here,” Luke responds, and Ashton can feel him shuffling around. He thinks they are on a bed, but he can’t be sure. Even though some of his memories of last night are coming back, everything is still incredibly fuzzy, especially whatever happened after Ashton won. He remembers a stairwell and Luke’s voice. There was another voice, too. The person sounded muffled, and Ashton didn’t recognize it. 

“Here. I’m gonna help you drink okay. We’ll go slow.” Ashton feels a hand behind his head, then the rim of a plastic bottle on his mouth. A few seconds later, cool liquid is falling down Ashton’s throat. He swallows two small gulps before Luke takes it away again. It somehow makes Ashton feel a bit better. 

“Thank you,” Ashton says, the words coming out easier now. He thinks he is looking in Luke’s direction, but he’s not sure. 

“How do you feel? Can you talk better now?” Luke asks, and Ashton feels soft fingers in his matted, tangled hair. 

“Like shit,” Ashton croaks out, attempting a smile. Luke must have been incredibly worried and scared, and Ashton wishes he could see him. “Luke, are my eyes open?” The question is quiet, and Ashton knows it sounds kind of silly. He should know if his eyes are open, but he just isn’t sure. It feels like they are open, but he can't really make out anything except silhouettes and light. 

“Yeah. Still can’t see?” Luke asks, his voice sad. 

“No…” Ashton responds, shaking his head. Fuck. Ashton feels like he is going to cry. Is he blind now? He remembers his vision going blurry last night, but he thought that may have been from shock. Fuck. It must have been the punt he took to the head. 

“It’s temporary.” Luke’s voice is confident. 

“You can’t know that for sure…” Ashton insists, the sentence cracking with emotion. 

“I… um… I googled it last night. I know that Google isn’t an expert, but it’s probably just your brain swelling against your optic nerve. Google said you should start to regain sight in 12-24 hours. It’s been 12 now,” Luke says, and fuck. Twelve hours. Panic suddenly floods through Ashton’s system, more memories from last night resurfacing including the vital information that Valentine gave him after the fight. They only have 48 hours until Poppy is being moved. They don’t have time. 

“Louis. Did you call Louis yet? Tell him about his sister?” Ashton asks, no longer concerned about himself or his eyesight. He hopes it will come back, but there are more pressing matters right now. 

“Shh. Shh… it’s okay. I didn’t call him because I didn’t trust the line. I didn't go to him because I couldn’t leave you. Ashton, you were stabbed. I didn’t know if you were gonna make it. I was so scared. I’m sorry. I just- I couldn’t leave you.” Luke’s voice is pleading as if he is begging for Ashton’s forgiveness. It seems a little extreme for the situation, but Ashton figures that it’s been an emotional night for Luke. Ashton understands. If the roles were reversed, no one could have made Ashton leave Luke’s side either. 

“Help me get a shower and get dressed,” Ashton says, attempting to set himself up. He hisses in pain before he feels warm hands on his shoulders, attempting to push him back down. 

“What? Why? No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. You have a concussion. A few broken ribs. Butterfly stitches on your head. Actual stitches in your stomach. You can’t even see for fucks sake. You should be getting rest, not traveling to Louis’ place,” Luke argues, pushing him harder. Holy shit. Ashton didn’t realize he had sustained so many injuries. No wonder he feels like he was the dinner of some large mythical creature. He still begins shaking his head. 

“We need to tell Louis, babe. He needs to know, and I’m not gonna lay here and do nothing. I can take some meds. You will be with me to help. You’ll take care of me. I won’t overdo it. It’s just going to Louis’ house. Not like I will be fighting or anything. We will just go there and tell him the info we got. I just need your help, babe. I can’t do it alone,” Ashton says, trying to plead with his eyes even though his forehead feels tight, probably from the aforementioned butterfly stitches. 

“Fine. I guess I can put a waterproof bandage over your stitches so we can get you in the shower. First you have to take more meds,” Luke gives in after a few minutes, and Ashton doesn't have to see him to know that he is pointing at him sternly, his blue eyes honest. Fuck. Ashton really hopes he will be able to see those beautiful blues eyes again someday. 

“As long as they won’t make me sleepy,” Ashton responds, happy to be getting his way. Luke responds in the negative, then hands him some pills. Ashton takes them with some more water from the bottle Luke hands him. Luke helps Ashton get out of bed, and Ashton does his best not to be vocal about how much pain he is actually in. Everything hurts. His skin feels like it is too small for his body, being stretched too tightly over his muscles and bones. 

“I’m guessing the stab wound wasn’t that bad since you were able to stitch it up no problem, and I’m not dead,” Ashton says, standing motionless as Luke does something that he can’t see to the stitches on his stomach. He thinks they are in his bathroom, judging by how many steps they took and the feeling of the tiled floor under his feet. He supposes his other senses really are heightened since he can no longer rely on his sight. 

“Could have been worse,” Luke responds after a very long pause. His voice sounds strange, but maybe it’s just because he doesn’t want to relive the events of last night. They will need to talk about it eventually, but maybe not right now. He has no idea what Luke went through, how scared he must have been. Ashton has the benefit of barely remembering it right now, but he has a lot of questions. 

“Was there someone else here last night?” Ashton asks, recalling the voice again. Luke has turned on the shower, holding Ashton’s hands as he leads him inside. It’s very difficult for Ashton to trust someone so much. He’s not very good at feeling helpless and relying on other people. Right now, he is having to rely entirely on Luke. Ashton doesn’t think he could do it if it were anyone else, including Louis. 

“Oh Yeah. This guy named Zayn,” Luke responds, and Ashton hears the cap of something snap open. “I’m gonna wash your hair first. We have to be careful. Even though the bandages are waterproof, we still can’t take any chances of water getting near your stitches.” Ashton nods his head in understanding. 

“Zayn? Do you know him?” Ashton asks, closing his eyes when he feels nimble fingers in his hair, scratching lightly on his scalp then carefully working their way through his matted, tangled curls. He doesn't even want to know what the water looks like as it runs off him. Probably tinged with brownish red, a mixture of his own blood and the man he killed not even twelve hours ago. 

“No. He was at the fight. Offered me a cigarette. Said he was a big fan of yours and didn’t wanna miss you coming out of retirement. He was really nice, and insisted on helping me after you won,” Luke explains, rinsing out Ashton’s hair. Next, Ashton hears another cap pop open, fingers in his hair once more, this time with conditioner. 

“Oh that’s weird. And you didn’t recognize him?” Ashton asks, his suspicions rising. 

“Nope. He didn’t have an accent either, so I’m not sure he’s from the city. I know it was really irresponsible of me, but I really needed help. He was really nice. He didn’t get freaked out over all the blood. He helped me so much. I’m not sure if you would be alive if he hadn’t been here,” Luke says, and Ashton can’t quite place the tone of his voice. It sounds like a mixture of sad, grateful, and also scared. Ashton wishes he could see him. He reads people more through facial expressions, especially Luke, but he doesn't have that ability right now. 

“I’m not mad at you, Luke. I trust your judgment,” Ashton rushes to assure him, not wanting him to be afraid that he had inadvertently disappointed Ashton by getting help from a stranger. Ashton understands. If Luke’s life was on the line, Ashton would have done anything to save it. He continues, his voice hesitant, “I’m glad he was around to help you. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for you.” 

“You almost died,” Luke says, his voice barely above a whisper and thick with emotion. His hands pause for a split second, still on Ashton’s body where they had been washing him. They feel lovely paired with the warm water cascading over his skin. The medication Luke gave him has also started to kick in, and paired with the shower, he is starting to feel a lot better, even though he is still in some pain. It’s amazing what a hot shower and meds can do for a person. 

“I know, but I didn’t,” Ashton responds, stepping closer to Luke. He places his hand on what he thinks is Luke’s hip and traces his way up his torso. Ashton knows his way around Luke’s body. His fingers have the contours memorized. He doesn't need his sight to know that his fingers are currently tracing over a mole that Luke has on his ribcage. He doesn't need to see Luke’s collar bones to know what they look like when Luke inhales because he knows what they feel like. 

“It was so close, Ash,” Luke murmurs, and Ashton can feel the emotion of the words in the breath on his face. His heart breaks for Luke, who is obviously still afraid of losing him. Ashton meant what he said the day before. He isn’t afraid of dying, but he realizes now he is afraid of leaving Luke. Ashton traces his way up Luke’s long neck, his hand finally finding Luke’s jaw, cupping it, the day-old scruff scratching his palm. 

“I know, baby, but you took good care of me. I’m alive. You saved me. I’m so thankful,” Ashton says, his voice soft as he leans in to kiss Luke. He knows his mouth probably tastes like ass, so he keeps it chaste. Just a soft peck on the lips to let Luke know how proud he is of him. How he knows that Luke did the right thing. 

“I guess,” Luke responds as if he doesn’t believe him. Luke is quiet for the rest of the shower, as he finishes washing Ashton. He just listens to the sound of Luke’s breathing, the noise his body makes as he washes himself. It doesn't take very long before Luke is shutting the shower off, helping Ashton out, then drying off his body with a fluffy towel and a gentle touch. 

Ashton tries not to get frustrated with himself when he brushes his teeth, annoyed that he needs help to do such a simple task. He just hates feeling helpless. Hates relying on others, and this whole situation is pushing him so far out of his comfort zone. He takes a few deep breaths and reminds himself that it's Luke. Luke won't judge him. 

They don’t talk much as they get dressed, Luke helping Ashton into a shirt and jeans despite Luke telling him he should wear sweatpants. Ashton just wants to feel like himself though, so he insisted on jeans. It was interesting to put them on and ended in them both giggling, Ashton hissing in pain as his broken ribs protested. Luke tells him he needs to start buying looser fitting jeans, and Ashton agrees. Luke borrows some of Ashton’s clothes, and he wishes he could see him in them. Ashton secretly loves seeing Luke in his clothes. He has no idea why. Maybe it’s easier to pretend that Luke is his, even though he isn’t. 

Luke tells Ashton to put sunglasses on to protect his eyes since he can’t register the light to know when he needs to squint. Ashton accepts them, putting them on, then getting into the passenger side of the car. As they drive to Louis’ safe house, Luke fills Ashton in on the events of the fight, and they get some food because Luke seems to think Ashton needs to eat. 

As Luke talks, more memories come flashing back into his mind. The way his toes gripped the edge of the roof, almost toppling off, off and onto the streets. Fighting with The Sandman to get to the knife first, eventually relenting. The way Luke’s eyes had been filled with worry every time Ashton glanced in his direction. The good news is that Ashton thinks his vision is slowly returning. He is able to make out more defined shapes now, and Ashton hopes that his eyesight will return completely soon. 

“We’re here,” Luke says, and Ashton can feel the car slowly coming to a stop. He feels around for the door handle, listening to Luke turn off the ignition and opening his own door, hearing it slam in a rush a moment later. Right as Ashton locates the handle, the door opens. He knows Luke is trying to be helpful, but Ashton can do things himself. He’s not an infant; he’s just hurt. He’s in no danger of dying anymore. 

“Thanks,” Ashton responds, holding Luke’s hand as he slowly gets out of the car, his sore muscles protesting. They continue holding hands as Luke guides him to the door of Louis’ house, the pavement tricky and uneven. He hears Luke knock on the door, and they aren’t waiting long before it swings open. The figure he is able to make out is tall, too tall to be Louis or Niall. He thinks it’s Harry, but he supposes it could be Liam. 

“Fuck. Ashton are you alright?” Harry’s voice sounds worried. Ashton didn’t think he looked  _ that  _ bad, but then again, he has no concept of what he looks like right now. “Come in. Please.” He watches Harry’s figure step out of the doorway to usher them inside. 

“I’m fine. The other guy… not so much,” Ashton says, trying to make light of the situation. He feels Luke’s hand tighten in his own. He can make out three more figures gathered around him, and someone sitting on the couch. He thinks Lottie is sitting on the couch, and judging by the body type, Louis is standing next to Harry. 

“He’s lying. The guy punted him in the head and also stabbed him. He has multiple broken ribs, stitches, and is blind from the kick,” Luke pipes in, and it’s Ashton’s turn to tighten his hand. He prides himself on being strong, on not relying on anyone or having anyone pity him. They probably pity him now. He can imagine the winces of concern that pass across their features. 

“Temporarily blind. Most likely,” Ashton defends, and he can  _ hear  _ Luke rolling his eyes. Luke pulls him until they are sitting on the couch together. Ashton really does think his vision is improving. He can definitely see outlines now and is starting to be able to make out various hues, however, he is beginning to see double. Maybe that’s a good thing? He’s no vision expert. 

“Ashton, what the fuck? Are you sure you’re okay? Why are you even here? Luke could have come alone,” Louis says, and Ashton looks towards his direction. He blinks a few times, willing his eyesight to return to normal. It doesn't, though. He wishes it was that simple, and he hopes Luke is correct about it being temporary. 

“I’m fine. He didn’t want to leave me, and I didn’t want him to come alone. I’ll survive,” Ashton responds, starting to get irritated over how many people are worried about him. He can handle himself. He isn’t an invalid. He hates this shit. He takes a calming breath and feels Luke’s hand on his knee as if he noticed Ashton’s agitation. 

“Can I get you anything? A water? Have you eaten? I’m sure we have some snacks around here somewhere,” Harry offers, and Ashton allows himself to smile. He had no idea Harry would be so nurturing. It’s good, though. It’s exactly what Louis needs in a partner, someone that will take care of him as much as Louis takes care of everyone else. 

“Nah. I’m fine. We stopped and grabbed some food on the way here,” Ashton responds easily, shrugging. He didn’t eat a lot but he really wasn’t all that hungry. He knew he had to eat or else Luke was going to have a conniption. 

“I’m sorry you lost a fight because of me,” Louis says after a few moments of silence. 

“I didn’t lose,” Ashton responds, completely confused by the statement. Ashton has never lost a fight, thank you very much.

“What? You look pretty beaten up, Ash,” Niall pipes in, his voice unsure, as if he is worried that Ashton is in denial or something. Ashton feels slightly offended by this. Did they really think he’d lose? Shows how much faith they all had in him. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret. 

“It was a death match. If I lost, I wouldn’t be here,” Ashton finally responds through gritted teeth, trying really hard not to be annoyed. He feels Luke’s arm around his shoulder now, attempting to calm him down. It sort of makes Ashton uncomfortable, never one to enjoy being soothed, but he doesn’t shrug him off. He is starting to understand that Luke finds comfort when he thinks he is soothing Ashton. It’s just as much for Luke’s benefit as it is for his. 

“What? Ashton, why didn’t you fucking tell me?” Louis asks, his shocked tone threaded with anger. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me if I did,” Ashton responds easily, crossing his arms over his chest because he is beginning to feel defensive. This was his fucking decision and nothing anyone could have said would have changed his mind. Louis of all people should understand that since he is the exact same way. 

“You’re damn well right,” Louis confirms, and Ashton knows from the sound of his voice he is upset. It seems all Ashton can do is upset people these days. He knows Luke has been upset with him for the past few days, but that is nothing new. He always disappoints Luke, but he’s not used to disappointing Louis. 

“It needed to be done, Lou. We need to save your sister, and this was the only way to do so. I won, so it’s fine.” Ashton’s tone is full of dismissal because he doesn't want to talk about this anymore. There isn’t a fucking point. What’s done is done. There is no point in Louis and Luke being angry at him because there is no longer anything he can do to change the situation. He can’t go back in time, and he wouldn’t if he could. 

“Wait, so you killed some guy last night? Who was he? Did you know him? Like was he a bad person?” Harry asks the questions in quick succession, and it’s the fastest Ashton has ever heard him speak. If his voice wasn’t so deep, Ashton would have even questioned that it was him. He is thankful for the change of subject though, even if it didn’t stray too far away. 

“I don’t really know him. He went by The Sandman which was pretty cliche if you ask me. I’m sure he wasn’t an amazing person, but neither am I. We did what we were supposed to do. I stabbed him in his armpit then went for the throat. He bled out on top of me. I barely remember it, though. My memory is fuzzy from the blow to my head,” Ashton recalls, but it’s mostly filled in from what Luke had told him. 

“Shit,” Harry says under his breath, his voice sounding somewhat astonished.

“Anyway, we know where your sister is,” Ashton starts, then listens as Luke relays the information. He’s glad that Valentine told him as well because Ashton really couldn’t remember the exact location. He knew that it was a warehouse, but couldn’t remember the exact address. 

“So what’s the plan, Lou?” Ashton doesn’t expect the feminine voice. It’s Lottie. He could sort of see someone sitting in the chair and had figured that it was her, but she’s so quiet he had forgotten she was there. 

“I think we need to move quickly. Tomorrow morning. He probably won’t expect us that early,” Louis says after a few moments. Ashton couldn’t agree more. This is very time-sensitive, but doing it tonight would probably be a death sentence. They need time to plan and recoup. Get ready for this. It feels like the first battle of a war. Ashton is already mentally preparing himself to march. It’s a scary feeling because they are most certainly outnumbered. 

“We will need guns and lots of ammo. I’m sure there are guards everywhere,” Ashton says, already beginning to plan in his head. He knows how Simon sets these things up. That’s the benefit of knowing your enemy. There will be a dozen guards outside. Probably more outside than inside because they need enough people to alert the ones inside if there is an attack. 

“We? You aren’t going,” Louis responds, his tone firm.

“What? Why?” Ashton asks, legitimately confused by Louis’ reaction. 

“You’re too injured,” Louis responds as if the answer is obvious. Ashton’s mouth pops open in shock. What the fuck? 

“I am not,” Ashton defends, outraged. Sure he has a few bumps and bruises, but it’s nothing that he can’t overcome. He refuses to sit this one out. He will not sit on the sidelines and watch his team go down in flames. He needs to be in the fight. He needs this. They need him. 

“Babe, you can’t see.” Luke’s voice is hesitant, as if he doesn’t want to say it. He probably knows it will annoy Ashton to no end. He fucking hates being treated like this. He’s not precious. He’s not made of glass. He is strong and durable, and he can sure as fuck fight tomorrow because they need him. 

“My vision will be fine by morning. It’s already improving,” Ashton responds easily, and it’s true. It’s slowly getting better, and he’s confident it will be back to normal by tomorrow morning. He will not allow Louis to exclude him from this fight. He respects Louis as a leader, and he will follow him into this battle as one. Follow him, not sit on the sidelines and watch. 

“What about your other injuries? Broken ribs. A concussion. You have a black eye. Stitches in your forehead. A fucking knife wound,” Louis lists, and Ashton begins shaking his head. 

“I’ll be fine. You know I’ve been in worse condition, and I’ve still managed,” Ashton argues, and he thinks Louis is considering it. It’s the truth though. Kind of. He may be down playing his condition just a bit. They’ve all fought while they were injured, before though. Jesus fuck, Louis was barely out a day when he got shot. Louis would be a hypocrite if he argues. “Plus, I’m the best shot you have. Out of this group, only me, you, Niall, and Luke have ever even shot a gun.” 

“Lou and I have been teaching Harry and Liam how to shoot for the past few days, figuring they’d need to learn,” Niall adds in, as if the information is helpful. It is. Sort of, but not really. 

“But are they good shots?” Ashton asks even though he knows the answer to it. The entire room pauses, and he can tell Louis is caught on a breath, unsure of what to say to that. They know he’s right; they just don’t want to fucking admit it. 

“Maybe at point-blank,” Louis finally admits, the sentence coming out on a sigh. Ashton smiles, feeling like he is winning. Ashton loves winning arguments. It makes him feel high. 

“See! Luke isn’t a very good shot either,” Ashton says, and he hears an outraged scoff from Luke. “Sorry, babe.” Ashton pats Luke on the leg, turning to him. He can almost make out the pout on his mouth. Luke isn’t denying it, though. They all know it to be true. Luke is usually behind a screen, not typically in the middle of the action. 

“Ashton, you’re probably more of a liability right now,” Louis maintains, and Ashton is seconds away from losing his shit. He takes a deep breath, knowing that getting angry isn’t going to convince Louis. He just needs to show him all of the reasons he needs to be there. Ashton will not be called a ‘liability’ by anyone. 

“No, I’m not. You know you need manpower, Louis. You all are going to be outnumbered. You need me. You know it’s true. Simon is gonna have dozens of men there on guard. Are you really going to go in with just you, Ni and Luke, and two other men that have barely ever held a gun?” Ashton asks, managing to keep his tone even despite how offended he feels. 

“I may have to. I can’t risk you any more than I already have, Ash,” Louis says, his voice sad but firm. So that’s what this is about? He’s worried about Ashton’s life. Jesus fucking Christ. Why is that even important right now? Ashton has lived his life and fucked it up, but Penelope will never get the chance if they don’t save her. 

“Fine, then I won’t be on the ground. I can set up a sniper rifle, cover you from above. I’m a decent shot with those, too. It will be good to have a vantage point. I can do what Luke usually does and communicate with you all through a com to tell you if someone’s coming,” Ashton tries because he doesn't know if he can convince Louis into letting him be on the ground. He knows Louis is considering it. If he can get him to agree, Ashton can just sneak down when everyone outside of the warehouse is dead. 

“Fuck. Fine. You’re right. We really could use the extra gun. We are definitely going to be outnumbered,” Louis relents, and Ashton smiles. He feels much better knowing that he will be there. They spend the rest of their time planning their attack, Ashton’s eyesight getting better as the day goes by. He is afraid this is a battle they can’t win, and he is worried about his friend’s lives. He really just wants them all to survive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... I know you hate Luke, and I'm sad about it.


	12. 90 Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go to save Poppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say.... yet... just read it. 
> 
> Also... violence and all of that lol 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, how are you all? I hope this chapter finds you well and that you enjoy it! It's a lot... like a lot. If you want to discuss it with me before you read it, my sm DMs are open. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_If I'm just somebody that you're gonna leave  
_ _And you don't feel something when you look at me  
_ _You're holdin' my heart, mmm, whatcha say?  
_ _Just let me down slowly, I'll be okay  
_ _If you're just some habit that I gotta break  
_ _I can clear my system in 90 days  
_ _You're holdin' my heart, mmm, whatcha say?  
_ _Just let me down slowly_ _\- P!nk_

  
  


**_Saturday Morning…._ **

“So Ashton and Luke are meeting us there?” Harry asks, and he knows he has asked this question before, but he tends to ramble when he’s nervous and the silence in the car feels like it’s suffocating him. The calm demeanors of Louis and Niall are somewhat frightening and disturbing. They are going off to possibly shoot people or get shot themselves, and they are acting like it’s just a normal day. It is for them, though, but Harry always seems to forget that. 

“Yeah, love. We can just park around the corner and out of sight. Should be easy enough,” Louis responds, reaching over to hold Harry’s hand, then shooting him a small smile before his eyes are back on the road. Harry takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He has already gone over everything he has learned about guns the past few days in his head one hundred and ninety seven times. 

“If it’s in town, then won’t we draw the attention of police officers when people hear gunshots?” Liam asks from the back seat, his voice sounding as nervous as Harry feels. Harry is very aware of the fact that they could be dead in a matter of hours. Somedays it feels like he is living his life in a dream that he can’t seem to wake up from, but he has to stop and remind himself that it’s not a dream. This is his life now, but it’s difficult to process. He finds just living in the moment helps a lot. 

“The part of town it’s in is mostly abandoned. The people that are there won’t even raise their eyebrows to gunshots. They are pretty used to them at this point because of the gang violence. As long as they aren’t the ones being shot at, they don’t do anything,” Louis explains, and that has Harry’s eyebrows reaching his hairline. Jesus. 

“Gangs?” Liam asks, his voice high pitched and breathless. Harry glances back at him, finding his mouth gaped open and his brown eyes wide in shock. 

“Yeah, Li. It will be alright though. Most locals in those types of areas either know me and Lou, or they know enough to not bother us,” Niall says, obviously trying to reassure Liam, but it’s not very comforting, and judging by the look Liam is giving him, he feels the same way. His words are similar to what Louis told him the first time he took Harry on a field trip. That seems like forever ago. 

“Will it be alright, though? We are just six guys walking into a heavily guarded building. Ashton can’t even help on the ground, and he’s the best fighter we have. Is this sucide?” Harry asks. It’s the question that has been on his mind since their conversation with Luke and Ashton the day before. It seems to be a common question among their group, and Harry is getting tired of their lives always being at stake. _One day at a time,_ he chants to himself. 

“We’re gonna have bullet proof vests on. We will all be heavily armed. Niall and I know how to fight, and Luke knows enough to survive. Ashton will be providing cover from a nearby rooftop and will have no issues killing anyone that tries to come at us from behind. I know it’s scary, but the trick to this is to believe you’ll get out of it,” Louis says, his voice unwavering and sure. He doesn’t know how Louis can make himself sound like that. So powerful. It gives Harry chills sometimes. 

“Yeah. I hope.” Harry is trying to be convinced. He is trying to believe that they will make it out of this whole thing alive, but it feels like death is around every single corner. The worst part is that he feels as though they are nowhere near the end of this battle. That scares him more than anything because he already feels like they are beaten. They are a man down at this point, and the clock is ticking against them. It feels hopeless. 

“Ash and Luke are already here,” Niall points out, snapping Harry out of his turmoil. Harry sees them sitting in a car, Luke in the driver’s seat. They are still a few blocks away from the warehouse, but that’s the plan. It’s still very early, the sun only just having risen. The street is deserted, an eerie silence falling over the surrounding area, as if the city itself is waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Remember. This is just a rescue mission. Poppy will be guarded, but Simon probably won’t even be there. We are just going to go in and get her then get out as quickly as possible. The people guarding her probably won’t even be Simon’s best. I don’t think it’s going to be that difficult. All of the shit we are doing is just for precaution. This is easy shit in the grand scheme of things,” Louis says, parking the car near Luke and Ashton’s in a deserted parking lot of what used to be a BlockBuster. Harry repeats the words to himself. Louis is right. This is probably nothing for the people in his present company. Only Harry and Liam are freaking out. 

They all get out of the car, watching Ashton and Luke do the same. Ashton seems to be moving a lot easier, only wincing once. Either he is doing better or he is learning to cover it. Harry thinks it’s probably the latter because that seems to be what Ashton does. He hides a lot of himself, whereas Luke seems to not be able to hide himself at all. They are an interesting contradiction. “Feeling any better Ash?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah. I’m alright. Still a little sore, but the vision is back to normal,” Ashton responds, tapping his temple and smiling. Luke looks at him with raised eyebrows, as if he knows he’s lying. Harry feels for Luke. He knows how incredibly frustrating it is to be in love with a stubborn fucking human being. He doesn't know which one is more stubborn though, Ashton or Louis. Harry is starting to think it’s Ashton. 

“Okay. You all know the plan. In and out. Kill anyone who gets in the way. I think there will be maybe like 10 guys there, a dozen tops. Probably all armed, but most of them are gonna be lackeys. No one with any real skill in fighting or shooting,” Louis starts, his voice taking on an authoritative tone as he walks to the back of their SUV and opens the hatch. They bought it yesterday. The dealer didn’t even bat an eye when Louis laid 40 thousand dollars in cash on the desk in front of him. 

“Alright, everyone got their coms on?” Ashton looks around the assembled group, hazel eyes squinting in the early morning sunlight. They all nod. “I will be communicating from a nearby rooftop. Once you get in the building, we will probably lose connection, so be expecting that,” Ashton adds, and Harry tries to remember all of it. It’s hard to listen when all he can hear is the blood rushing through his own veins and his loud heartbeat drumming in his ears. Harry doesn’t plan to kill anyone today. Nope. He already told Louis that, and Louis understands. Harry will shoot to injure, but not to kill. 

Louis helps Harry into the bulletproof vest. It’s heavier than Harry was expecting, and gives him flashbacks from the bomb vest he had to don not even a week ago. He tries to push that from his mind. This is still terrifying, but the fear feels different somehow. Louis is right. Simon won’t be there, and this is just another day for them. It’s a crash course for Harry and Liam, though. 

Five minutes later, Harry has a gun in his hand, one in a hollster on his side, and cartridges full of ammunition in various places all over his body. The gun feels heavy and cold in his hand, familiar in the way that an enemy is. He hates how he has become accustomed to this. The first time he ever even held a gun was less than a week ago, and now he has shot one on multiple occasions, learned to reload, and even take it apart. Times have certainly changed. 

“Are you all ready?” Louis asks, looking at the small group. Harry doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just nods his head much like the others. Liam’s eyes are as wide as saucers, and Harry isn’t sure he’s breathing. Oh yeah, Harry needs to breathe as well. Jesus fuck. He feels like he is watching a movie. This can’t be his life. He can’t actually be doing this. 

He’s a rich kid, not someone in the mafia. No. He needs to stop. He cannot freak out right now. Thinking about it makes him freak out, and they can’t afford that. He needs to be strong for Louis and for Poppy. He can freak out afterwards, but for now, he needs to try to not think too much about the present situation and what they are about to do. 

They silently make their way down the block, and Louis was not lying when he said it was a deserted part of town. The streets are so quiet, it’s as if the birds themselves are afraid to make a noise. No one is outside. No cars are driving down the streets. No sound of TV’s blaring from nearby apartments. Nothing. It’s so strange to Harry. Everything is so weird right now. 

At some point, Ashton breaks off from the rest of the group, sliding into what seems to be an abandoned building. They stop, giving him time to get to the roof and give them the go ahead. This must mean they are almost there. Fuck. Harry isn’t prepared for this. Not mentally. Not physically. Fuck. Holy shit. They are really about to do this. Louis must sense his turbulent thoughts because he feels Louis’ hand in his a moment later, squeezing hard, bringing him back to reality. 

“There you are,” Louis says, his voice barely above a whisper when his eyes finally come into focus. He looks lovely in the early morning light. This. This is the reason why Harry is here. Louis. Louis doesn’t deserve another loss. Louis doesn’t deserve to have another family member die. Louis is the reason for everything Harry does now. Louis needs him, and Harry will do everything he can to give Louis what he needs. 

“Sorry. I’m just really nervous,” Harry admits, even though Louis already knows this. They discussed it last night. 

“I know, love. It’s okay though. We over-planned because we don’t want to take any chances. I don’t think it will be as bad as we made it seem last night. We just wanted you and Li to be as prepared as possible,” Louis says, with a smile, and Harry can’t tell if it’s a lie. Maybe it’s just a half truth or Louis is lying to himself as well. Either way, it does make Harry feel better. For Louis, this isn’t really all that different from the art heist that caused their pats to cross. Harry knows his perception of this is much more fearful than it is for most of the others. 

“All set,” comes a voice in his ear, and Harry jumps, not expecting the voice of God. It takes Harry three point nine seconds to realize that it was Ashton’s voice coming through the device in his ear. Harry has never used anything like this before, and he almost forgot about it. Louis is giving him a bemused smile. 

“Copy that,” Louis responds, and it is so strange hearing the words in his own ear but also hearing them from beside him. Just something else that Harry is going to have to get used to. Louis silently gestures for them to follow him, turning the next corner to find the warehouse in question. At least, Harry thinks it's the place they are about to enter. 

There are at least five men outside, from what Harry can see. They seem to be in different areas. Two at the door. One on each corner and one nearing the end of the parking lot. They have decided that they wouldn’t use their firearms unless it was 100% necessary because they don’t want to draw attention to themselves from Simon’s men inside of the wearhouse. 

“Looks like six guys. There is one on the side of the building that you all can’t see. They have coms. All armed,” Ashton says, and Harry nods even though Ashton most certainly can’t see them since they are currently standing alongside the building he is on top of. Louis is assessing the situation with critical blue eyes, clearly trying to think of their best form of advancement. Harry has literally no clue. 

“Fuck. I wish I had my laptop to disable their coms. Cause and interference,” Luke says, his own eyes scanning the building. He looks almost confused. Maybe he was expecting more people. Harry certainly was. They have no idea how many are inside, though. 

“I have an idea,” Louis starts, and they all look at him expectantly. “Niall, you stay here with Liam and Luke. Cause a distraction to get the four guys on the outskirts to come to you. Take them out. Let me and Harry handle the ones by the door, then meet us there when you're finished. Ash, watch our backs. If we look like we’re in trouble, and you have a shot, take it.” 

“Roger that, Tommo,” Ashton responds a moment later, and the rest of them just nod. Harry is so fucking nervous he feels like he is seconds away from throwing up. He tries to take deep breaths. Tries to practice breathing techniques. Everything is just happening really fast, and it feels so surreal. It’s out of body experience, but Harry isn’t even sure he wants to be in his body right now. 

He silently follows Louis, leaving Luke, Niall and Liam behind. They swing wide, sticking to shadows. Harry has no idea how they are going to get close to the doors without being detected, but maybe Louis doesn't care if they’re seen. Harry feels like a little kid just tagging along, not really having any idea what he’s doing. He is probably more of a hindrance than a support. 

Harry doesn’t react when he hears a loud noise. It isn’t a gunshot, but it is something loud enough to have the other men begin running in it’s direction. Niall is definitely good at distractions it seems because the plan is working thus far. The only two men that stayed in their places are the ones by the door, just like Louis had predicted. They seem to be only watching their friends go, and not paying attention to their surroundings as Harry and Louis get closer to them. 

Before Harry can even register it, Louis is punching one of the guys in the face. When the fuck did that happen? The other guy turns towards them, and Harry freezes, unsure of what to actually do. He’s never fought a day in his life. The man charges him, and Harry dodges, his heart racing. When the man turns around, his fist flies at Harry’s face. He misses Harry by inches, but on instinct Harry balls his hand into a fist. 

The moment his fist makes contact with the guy’s nose, a searing pain shoots down Harry’s hand and into his arm. He didn’t know punching someone would hurt so badly. Holy shit. He doesn’t have to even grab his hand because the guy has recovered quickly, punching Harry in the jaw. It hurts, but it’s probably not the worst pain he’s ever felt. He was expecting so much worse, if he’s honest. 

He hears Louis’ struggling in his left ear, and Ashton directing the other boys in his right. He doesn't have time to pay them any attention because he is too busy dodging fists. The next moment, he is laying on the ground, facing his attacker with the air knocked out of his lungs. “Use your gun, Haz,” Ashton says in his ear, but Harry doesn't want to do that. He also doesn’t want Ashton to shoot this guy in the head. 

Harry turns his head to dodge another fist, seeing something out of the corner of his eye. He blindly reaches for it, his fingers coming into contact with a metal object a moment later. He doesn’t hesitate smashing it across the guy’s temple. Harry watches his attacker’s eyes widen for a split second before they close, and he falls to the ground next to Harry. 

Harry gets up quickly, his eyes immediately finding Louis. He sees Louis is on the ground, the guy on top of him with a gun held to his head. A flashback of his father in the very same position has Harry stopping in his tracks. He remembers how heavy the gun felt in his shaking hand that night. He remembers the deranged look in his father’s eyes with his finger on the trigger. Louis’ voice begging Harry not to do it, floats through his mind, his blue eyes pleading with him. 

Oh God. Harry feels sick. He just can’t move. All he sees is his dad, looming over Louis with a gun to his head. He can’t do it again. He can’t kill his father again. He already did this once didn’t he? If he does it again, he will surely become him right? His father killed people and now Harry does the same. He can’t become his father. He can’t sell innocent children to pedophiles. Harry’s body begins shaking violently, his mind caught up in a memory. 

_You’re not gonna shoot me. You’re too much of a pansy. You don’t have it in you_ _._ He was right. Harry is a pansy. He doesn't have it in him, but he did. He shot his dad. He killed him. He died right in front of Harry’s eyes, with a gun pointed to Louis’ head. Harry did have it in him, but what the fuck does that even mean. Is Harry just like his dad? What if he is? What if he isn’t? Fuck. 

A sudden gunshot startles Harry from his thoughts, making him actually jump. The world comes back into focus, the memory being blown away like smoke from a fire that was recently extinguished. He blinks a few times, confused when the man that was on top of Louis topples to the ground. He looks down at the gun he is still pointing in their direction, but he doesn't think he shot him. Did he? Louis’ eyes are wide, his mouth open in shock. “Got him. You alright, Lou?” Ashton. Ashton killed the man, not Harry.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Where are the others?” Louis asks a moment later, standing up and looking around for their friends. 

“Heading your way,” Niall answers, and Harry sees three figures running in their direction. Luke is in the middle, his tall, lanky form jogging quickly. 

“Are you crying, baby?” Louis asks, his voice tender. What? Harry wipes his face, finding water on his fingers. He didn’t even realize it. God. He feels so fucking stupid. He had the chance to save Louis, and he was just standing there, petrified. He couldn’t move. He froze. All he could see was his dad, and he just… he couldn’t. If Ashton hadn’t been there, Louis would be dead. 

“I’m fine,” Harry responds, even though he’s not fine at all. Louis is probably second guessing even bringing Harry with him right now. Harry’s too much of a fucking wimp to do what needed to be done. He couldn’t even hit the guy. Louis deserves a strong person who can fight and survive in this kind of life. Harry isn’t that, and he doesn't know if he ever will be. 

“You sure?” Louis asks, and he looks skeptical. Harry is saved from having to lie to Louis again by Niall’s voice. 

“I’m sure the guys inside will be expecting us. Ready to go in?” Niall asks, looking expectantly at Louis. He must realize something is off because then he looks at Harry, his eyes darting between them for a few seconds. Harry begins nodding, just wanting to change the subject and get the fuck out of there. He doesn’t want to be anymore embarrassed by his shortcomings than he already feels. 

“Yeah,” Louis responds, nodding once. He takes a deep breath, opening the door easily. Harry figured it would be locked, but it isn’t. Harry just shrugs it off because he doesn't know what normal is in this situation. Louis goes in first, his gun trained in front of him. He looks to the left then to the right. He must not see anything because he gestures for them to follow. Inside it is mostly dark, with walls everywhere, blocking out any sunlight that could have made it inside. 

Harry was expecting large open spaces, but inside is almost like a maze, narrow hallways set up, almost as if this was orchestrated to cause confusion. He hopes there aren’t any dead ends, like mazes tend to have. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck is standing up, his stomach knotted with anxiety. Something feels wrong. They proceed slowly and with caution, and Harry feels seconds away from jumping out of his skin. 

___________

Something is wrong. Ashton can feel it deep in his bones. This was too easy. He hasn't heard any gunshots coming from the warehouse either. He lost connection with the others as soon as the door closed, but everything feels wrong. He wishes he was in there. He should be, but he promised Luke he wouldn’t go in unless it was an emergency. This feels like an emergency but he has no idea why. 

He paces the rooftop, debating about just going down there. Instead, he settles for using his binoculars to keep an eye out. Ashton is about ten stories up, so he uses his vantage point to look at his surroundings. A chill goes down Ashton’s spine when he spots three black van’s still several blocks away. He would recognize them anywhere. He’s driven one, more times he can count. 

It’s a set up. Fuck. It’s a set up. It has to be. Poppy’s probably not even here. Simon knew they were coming. That’s why it was so fucking easy. Fuck. Shit. Ashton has to warn them. Without thinking, he takes off into a sprint his sore body protesting. He ignores it, running down the stairs of the old building, his footfalls echoing around in all different directions. 

He is breathing hard when he exits the building. His side is burning from lack of air, but he has to keep moving. They are getting closer, and he needs to warn the other boys. He can’t stop. He quickly runs to the warehouse, finding a maze inside. His com still isn’t working. He could yell out, but that could alert a guard if there is one inside, so he just quickly makes his way through the narrow hallways. 

This just proves his point more. Simon wanted it to take a while for them to get through the building, to give his men time to get here. Fuck. He continues running, following the sound of a voice that sounds like Simon’s. Fear shoots through his system. It seems like he has finally gotten to the end of the maze, a doorway leading to the sound of the voice. He grabs his gun, mentally preparing himself for whatever he may find. With a shaky hand, he turns the doorknob, holding his gun out in front of him. 

He opens the door, the five men standing on the other side not even looking in his direction. Their attention is on a large screen that has been set up along the wall, Simon’s face is on it. He’s talking, his nasally voice echoing through the empty space as if he’s actually there. Ashton almost interrupts because they don’t have time, but then he hears something that has him freezing in his spot. 

“You’re probably wondering how I knew you were coming,” Simon starts, a smirk playing on his features. “I was informed. That’s right. You have a traitor among you. Someone who cares more about drugs than his friends.” Ashton’s stomach drops, his breathing now even more labored. Everyone else looks confused by Simon’s words, glancing around the group, but Ashton is looking at Luke. 

“Luke has been feeding me information all along. It’s how I knew about Lottie escaping. It’s how I found her. It’s how I knew about your little plan to save Penelope,” Simon continues, as if his words aren’t repeatedly punching Ashton in the stomach.

No. He’s lying. Luke wouldn’t. Ashton feels like he can’t breathe, like the walls are closing in around him. His entire body hurts. He tells himself that he can’t believe this, but deep down inside he knows it’s true. He has known for a long time that Luke cares about his cocaine more than he cares about Ashton. This just solidified everything. That doesn’t make it any less painful. 

Ashton has no idea what else Simon is saying, but he thinks he stopped talking. He just… he hurts. Fuck. Each beat of his heart is becoming more painful than the last. Luke betrayed them. Because he wanted to get fucking high. Luke only cares about himself. Ashton has always known that but... fuck… the past few days he thought maybe things could be better? He’s felt closer to Luke than ever, but now it all feels like a lie. 

Ashton can’t think about that now. He has to warn them. They still don’t know it’s a trap. That’s what he’s here for. He can’t… he can’t think about Luke. He has to save the others. He swallows, forcing his lungs to create enough air to make sounds, then his vocal chords, tongue, and lips to cooperate enough to form words. 

“They’re coming. It’s a trap. Three vans. They’re coming. We need to move,” Ashton manages, through ragged breathing. All of them turn to look at him, startled by his voice. They must not have known he was even there. Ashton has always been good at keeping his panic to himself. Their shock quickly turns to concern when they see him. 

“Ashton. You’re bleeding,” Harry says, and what? He is? As if acknowledging it turned on the pain receptors in his brain, he feels a stabbing sensation in his side. He looks down, finding his shirt soaked with blood. He puts his hand over it, the fabric now sticky and wet. Fuck. He must have popped a stitch during his sprint. He didn’t even notice, too concerned with warning them, then with what Simon had just revealed. 

“Let me,” Luke says, taking a step toward him, but he is stopped by Louis’ firm hand on his chest.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Louis says, his voice cold, serving as a reminder to what they just found out. Ashton doesn't want Luke to touch him either, but he also desperately wants him to. He realizes then that Luke hasn’t denied anything. He hasn’t said that Simon is lying. He just looks fucking guilty. No. This is all too much. Ashton cannot handle it right now. 

“I can’t,” Ashton gets out, his breath leaving him too quickly to be normal. He collapses to the floor, his body finally giving out. He wants to cry, but he won’t allow himself to. Luke just… he fucking chose drugs over him. He can’t even process this. After everything Ashton sacrificed to save Poppy, Luke just fucking threw that all away to get high. For some fucking coke. 

“Ash, are you okay?” Harry asks, kneeling down. Ashton glances at Luke, wishing that he was touching him even though he thinks the touch would burn. Luke isn’t even looking at him though, his eyes cast down, his hands clasped in front of him with his shoulders slouched. He finally looks, his blue eyes shiny with tears and what could possibly be regret. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing

“Please. Let me,” Luke begs, looking desperately at Louis then gesturing towards Ashton. Ashton begins violently shaking his head. He doesn't want Luke anywhere near him, even though a little voice in the back of his mind is beckoning Luke closer. He doesn't even want to hear him speak. Luke touching him will only make him hurt more. He’s bleeding more from Luke’s stab to his heart than the wound in his stomach. 

“Let you what? Fucking betray us? Give Simon more information about us? Act like our fucking friend? Let you do what Luke? Because it feels like you’ve done enough,” Louis says, his voice heated. Ashton looks up, finding that Louis is now holding a gun to Luke’s head, anger in his blue eyes. 

“No. Don’t.” Ashton’s voice is so weak, he silently berates himself for it. Harry’s attention is drawn from Ashton to Louis, his green eyes widening in shock when he takes in the sight before him. Niall and Liam both look torn, as if they have no idea what to do. They are just watching with unreadable expressions. Ashton tries to focus on his breathing. He tries to pretend his heart isn’t fucking shattered. 

“Let me explain. Please!” Luke yells, his large mouth open wide with the words as he holds his hands up in surrender. Luke has started crying, fat tears streaming down his face. Ashton hates himself for still wanting to wipe them away. He hates himself for wanting to hear what Luke has to say because maybe it will be enough for Ashton to forgive him. The words will be empty, though. He’s only going to stay what Ashton wants to hear, and not the fucking truth. How could he possibly forgive Luke for this? For betraying them? He has forgiven him for enough shit over the years, but this? Ashton is going to be sick. 

“Louis. We don’t have time. Ashton is bleeding pretty badly. We need to get him home or to a hospital. Plus, they’re coming. We will all die if we stay,” Harry says, taking off his bullet proof vest then his shirt, placing it firmly over Ashton’s bleeding wound. Ashton is beginning to feel dizzy, the world around him starting to fade. He’s not sure if it’s from blood loss or lack of air. He can’t breathe. 

“Can you carry him?” Louis asks, looking at Harry but his gun is still trained on Luke’s head. 

“I can,” Luke responds, quickly, but Ashton can tell he instantly regrets the words because Louis tightens his hold on the gun, as if angered by them. Luke is right, though. He can carry him. He has. He’s the only person Ashton has ever trusted enough to allow it. Ashton hates this. He feels helpless and vulnerable in front of everyone. He regrets allowing Luke to ever see him this way. He doesn't deserve it. 

“You’re not going to fucking touch him. We will take care of him. We’re his real friends. You’re lucky I don’t fucking shoot you where you stand,” Louis spits, his voice menacing. Ashton wants to tell him to not be so harsh. He wants to tell him not to shoot Luke because Ashton’s heart couldn’t fucking handle that. He can’t stand the thought of Luke dying even though he has hurt him so fucking much. 

“Please. I just…” Luke starts but is cut off by Louis. 

“One more word and you’re gonna eat a fucking bullet Luke,” Louis warns, and Ashton can tell by the sound of his voice that he means it. He has seen Louis shoot people for less. The only thing that's keeping Luke alive right now is probably the fact that Louis doesn't know how his death would affect Ashton in his current state. 

“Louis. Stop it. We need to go,” Harry says, and he must have seen something in Ashton’s eyes. He wants to thank him, but he can’t seem to create the words. He feels like he’s dying. He hopes. It would be less painful than what he is currently feeling in his chest. In his fucking soul. He thinks he may be crying, fat drops of water falling from his face onto the concrete ground below him. He doesn't care anymore if they see him cry. Luke betrayed him and everything feels hopeless. 

“Liam, help Harry. Keep pressure on the wound. We need to get him out of here. We all need to get the fuck out of here. Simon’s men could be here any minute, then we will all die so none of this shit will matter,” Louis says, his voice taking on a commanding tone. Liam rushes to Ashton’s side, pulling his arm to his shoulder. Harry does the same on the other side, and suddenly he is being hoisted up by both men. Ashton winces, suppressing a cry of pain. 

“Come on. Let’s get you to the car,” Liam says, his voice soft despite the intensity of the situation. Ashton just nods, too tired and dizzy to really put up much of a fight. Luke is staring at him, his expression worried, his mouth open, as if ready with an excuse. It’s always an excuse with him. Ashton is tired of his excuses. He is tired of making excuses for him. Enough is enough. He just can’t believe he went through a death match just to have it thrown away by someone he loves. That hurts more than anything that happened to him in that fight. 

“Ashton, I-” Luke clamps his mouth shut, as if he doesn't know what to say. He looks as though he wants to reach out for him but he doesn’t. There is nothing more to say, though. Ashton wants to tell him he hates him. He wants to say how hurt he is. That he hopes cocaine can keep Luke warm at night and protect him and love him the way that Ashton does. He wants to hurt him the way he is hurting now. He doesn't say any of that though, the words staying in his head where they belong. 

“Tell Simon he can suck my dick, and I will kill him,” Louis says, his voice firm. Luke blinks, more tears falling from his eyes. The last thing Ashton sees is Luke falling to the floor, sobbing into his hands as Liam and Harry carry him from the small room. The whole world goes blissfully black right after, and Ashton doesn't feel anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY OKAY. I'M SORRY. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SORRY.


	13. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just read it, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning... mentions of self harm. Just wanted to put that out there. Nothing graphic but there are mentions and thoughts. 
> 
> Now that's out of the way, how are you all? I hope this chapter finds you well and that you enjoy it! It's a lot... like a lot. If you want to discuss it with me before you read it, my sm DMs are open. 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with my constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing, and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_You cut out a piece of me, and now I bleed internally_   
_Left here without you, without you_   
_And it hurts for me to think about what life could possibly be like_   
_Without you, without you- The Kid LOROI_

“Fuck,” Ashton hisses, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, trying to stop himself from pulling away from the uncomfortable sensation. Liam keeps a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him, having been instructed to do so by Louis. 

“I know. Almost done,” Niall responds, looking up at him with worried eyes. Ashton grabs the pillow, gripping it hard so he doesn't punch Niall in the face. He puts his forearm over his eyes, fisting that hand too. He’s glad he was asleep the first time this happened. He thinks he was asleep for most of the car ride here because he barely remembers it, his body having been through so much in the past 48 hours, it seemed to have shut down. He’s awake now and in pain. 

“The stitches Luke did look amazing. Almost professional. Looks like you just popped a couple when you were running,” Niall says, and Ashton glances down at him, seeing that concentrated look on his face. He said it absentmindedly, but just hearing Luke’s name makes Ashton’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Just hurry, please,” Ashton forces out through gritted teeth, trying to keep his breathing even. Harry is by his side, looking at him worriedly. He offered his hand for Ashton to hold, but Harry’s hand felt too large. It didn’t feel right, so Ashton dropped it almost immediately. He wants Luke’s hand. Fuck. 

“Do we need to take him to the hospital?” Louis asks, halting his pacing for two seconds before he starts back up. Lottie is helping Niall, handing him things that he asks for. The whole scene feels very calm, given the circumstances. At least they didn’t have to talk Louis out of sacrificing himself again. Ashton had been prepared for that argument, but he thinks Louis is too pissed off. 

“No. I don’t think so. The bleeding has mostly stopped. I just need to replace the stitches,” Niall responds. Ashton can feel the piercing of the needle, then the slide of thread between his skin cells. It makes him cringe. It’s definitely not the worst pain he has ever felt. It’s just a lot after everything that happened with Luke. 

“Do we need to leave?” Liam asks, and everyone turns toward him at the question. Liam is hovering above Ashton, both hands on Ashton’s shoulders still anchoring him to the couch. He swallows when all eyes are on him, as if he wasn’t sure he should have asked the question to begin with. “Well… umm… Luke knows where we are. He could give our location to Simon.” 

“Let him. I will kill every single one of those fucks,” Louis responds, and Ashton can’t help but feel guilty He just always feels responsible for Luke’s actions. The only reason why Louis trusted him in the first place was because Ashton did, and it turns out that trust was misplaced. Ashton can’t help but feel like he is responsible for this in some way. 

“I don’t think he will,” Ashton adds into the conversation through gritted teeth. Jesus fuck. He hopes Niall is almost done. They all look at him skeptically, and Ashton begins shaking his head. “He hasn’t yet, and he’s had plenty of opportunity.” 

“Yeah, but now he’s got nothing more to lose,” Liam counters, eyes soft as if he is talking to a child. Ashton wants to scream. 

“He didn’t have anything to fucking lose to begin with,” Ashton spits, anger seeping into every syllable before it is released into the tense room. 

“He had you to lose,” Liam says, as if the answer is obvious, but Ashton shakes his head again. 

“He clearly never gave a fuck about me. All he wanted was his fucking drugs. That’s what he didn’t want to lose, and he didn’t,” Ashton insists, more tears welling up in his eyes that have nothing to do with the pain he is currently in. Niall seems to be done tugging on his skin, cleaning the wound then placing a sterile gauze over it. 

“Ashton…” Harry starts, but he is cut off. 

“Please don’t fucking argue. Please don’t lie to me and tell me that he cares about me because you think it will save me from my misery. He never cared about me. Only his drugs,” Ashton says bitterly, blinking his eyes a few times then rubbing them to try to cover his tears. His brain still hasn’t processed this, but he refuses to cry again in front of them. He just wants to go home, get drunk, and cry himself to sleep. Alone. Always alone. 

“What’s he on? How long has he been on them?” Louis asks, and Ashton is surprised by the question. He removes his hand from his face so he can see Louis. He has moved closer to him, looking down at Ashton with sad eyes. Ashton hates it. He knows every single person in the room pities him right now. They shouldn’t. Ashton brought this on himself. He knew better than to fall in love with someone who didn’t love him back. 

“Just Cocaine. He hasn’t done anything heavier to my knowledge. He started using it in college when Adderall was no longer doing its job of keeping him awake for days on end to study. He tried it at a party, then slowly replaced the Adderall with cocaine. Even after he dropped out, he kept using it to let loose and feel happy, but it slowly became less of a want and more of a need,” Ashton explains, watching as Niall finishes bandaging the wound while Lottie cleans up the mess they made. 

“Fuck. Since he was in college? That was before I even met him. How did we not know?” Louis asks, flabbergasted. It feels good to be talking about this with them. Keeping such a huge secret from his closest friends has been eating away at him for years. Ashton hasn’t really been able to be vocal about his worries for Luke to anyone because he didn’t want to expose his secret and possibly compromise his job. Apparently, Simon knew all along though. It’s almost as if a weight has been lifted. 

“He’s really good at hiding it. He’s been fucked out on missions and you guys have never noticed,” Ashton tells him, and Harry gasps, as if he wasn't expecting that little bit of information. Harry has clearly never been around drug addicts, though. They become well versed in hiding their habit from others. 

“So he is an addict? This isn’t just something he does every now and again?” Harry asks, his voice almost hesitant as if he knows he lacks knowledge on the subject. Ashton shoots him a smile, wanting him to know that it’s okay to ask questions. Harry isn’t from their world, but he is certainly getting a crash course in it. Ashton moves to sit up. Harry and Liam try to stop him, but he brushes them off. 

“Yeah. He’s an addict. I’ve tried to get him to stop. Lots of times. He actually… um…” Ashton pauses, trying to decide if he wants to finish the sentence. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to just finally say it. “He actually OD’d the day you called me Louis. I went to tell him that you were alive and found him seizing on the floor, probably just a few minutes away from having a heart attack. I gave him a sedative and cooled his body temp down, so he survived.” 

“That must have been so scary,” Harry says on a breath, his green eyes wide and shiny as if he is on the verge of tears. Harry seems to be a bit of a sensitive person from what Ashton gathered. He and Luke would have gotten along well. Would have. Before Luke betrayed them and fucked everything up just so he could snort coke off Cherry’s tits. That thought makes Ashton’s empty stomach roll. 

“Yeah. I asked him to stop the next day when we were driving back home from here,” Ashton says, remembering their conversation like it was yesterday. It was only two days ago, in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like forever. So much has happened since then, and so much is still happening. Ashton is fucking exhausted. His heart, body and soul just want to give up this fight, but he can’t. He refuses. 

“What did he say?” Louis asks, curiosity marring his features. Ashton grimaces, shaking his head. He moves again, swinging his bare feet to the floor. The room spins, so he looks down, clasping his hands together in an attempt to ground himself. He closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. When he opens them, the room is wobbly but not spinning. Progress. 

“We argued about it. He said he didn’t mean to OD, and it was a one time thing because he used a needle instead of snorting. He said he wouldn’t stop, but promised he’d cut back,” Ashton tells them, chuckling humorously. He can’t believe that he was stupid enough to actually fall for that shit. Luke had never planned to cut back. All he ever wanted was to get high, and he chose that over almost everything else in life so it seems. It was all just lies. 

“That’s what they all say,” Louis replies, shaking his head and looking down. He walks over, sitting next to Ashton on the couch and patting his knee. Harry has taken a seat on his other side, and Ashton suddenly realizes he doesn’t feel alone in this battle with Luke anymore. Ashton isn’t very good at being touched or comforted, so he is happy that Louis just keeps it simple. Harry looks like he wants to hug him, but he doesn't. 

“Yeah. I swear to you Lou, I didn’t know he was an informant. I didn’t know he was telling Simon anything,” Ashton assures, looking at Louis with as much sincerity as he can muster. He needs Louis to believe him. Ashton would have never ever condoned Luke’s actions. He is having trouble wrapping his head around it still. He wants to deny it, but they all heard what Simon said. Luke didn’t even deny it. It’s true, and that fact crushes Ashton’s heart. 

“I know you didn’t know, Ash,” Louis says, patting Ashton on the back in a reassuring gesture. Ashton feels better knowing Louis believes him. Ashton lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He tries to rack his brain for any other reason as to why Luke would be an informant, but nothing comes to mind. He’s just so disappointed in him. Louis’ voice breaks through his thoughts. “Honestly, I’m not mad at him anymore.”

“What? How?” Lottie asks, her voice angry. Ashton could tell she’s been angry since the moment they got there. She clearly blames him for the loss of her sister, not once but twice. He is to blame, though. He is responsible to an extent for Poppy’s abduction, then he feels responsible for Luke’s betrayal. She has every right to hate him. He’s surprised she hasn’t stabbed him yet. 

“He’s an addict. While that’s not really an excuse, it can make people do crazy things,” Louis responds, looking at his sister, wanting her to understand. Ashton shakes his head in disagreement though, anger beginning to pump through his system once more. 

“Louis, he betrayed you. He practically signed the death certificate for you sister. It’s okay if you want to kill him,” Ashton says, his voice coming out harsh, carefully enunciating each word to bring his point across. He blinks back tears of frustration that are stinging his eyes. He balls his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms in a weak attempt to keep them at bay. He’s tried to keep Luke alive, but now he doesn't blame a single person in the room if they want him dead. 

“I don’t,” Louis responds easily, his voice firm. He looks around the room, daring the others to disagree with him. Liam’s head is down, as if he doesn't feel like he has a say in any of this. Harry is studying Ashton’s features, like he is a puzzle that he is trying to figure out. It kind of makes Ashton uncomfortable. Niall is nodding along, but there is a fire in Lottie’s eyes. It resembles Louis’ when he is torturing someone for information, and it is scary. 

“That makes one of us,” Lottie spits, her tone as heated as her eyes. Ashton swallows, praying she doesn’t cut his balls off to mount as a trophy. Louis would do that in a heartbeat, and he’s pretty sure Lottie has the same fire in her blood. She has the same tenacity that Louis has. 

“I’m not saying I trust him. I’m just saying I understand him a little better now,” Louis responds softly, his tone a clear attempt to soothe her. She looks like she is about to say something, but Ashton beats her to it. 

“It’s not a fucking excuse.” Ashton’s tone is icy now. He is so fucking tired of making excuses for Luke. He is exhausted from constantly cleaning up his fucking messes. He had held out hope that maybe Luke would change. Maybe he would choose Ashton over his drugs. Maybe Ashton could be his fucking drug, but no. That clearly was never in the picture for Luke. 

“Yes, it is. He needs help,” Harry says, his voice soft, mirroring Louis’. Ashton looks at him, and Harry is sincere in his statement. He shakes his head, though. Harry is so fucking naïve, that much is clear. Harry doesn't know shit about Luke. He doesn't know that Ashton has tried to help him. He doesn't know anything really. Luke is selfish. That’s it, and Harry needs to fucking understand that. 

“He betrayed us. He hurt…” Ashton lets the ‘me’ that would finish that sentence vanish into thin air, not able to say it. His skin suddenly feels very raw, and the way Harry is looking at him makes him want to shrivel up so that he can be as small as possible. He feels exposed in the worst way. As if they all have a magnifying glass and are examining every facet of his and Luke’s relationship. He just wants to go home and cry away their watchful eyes. 

“I’m not saying I’m inviting him over for dinner. I’m just saying I won’t kill him for this,” Louis clarifies, glaring at Lottie. She clamps her mouth shut, obviously mad at her brother but not wanting to push it right now. Ashton wants her to be angry. He can handle anger. He can handle people screaming at him. He can’t handle failure though, and right now, he feels like a failure. 

“I don’t want you to kill him. I just… I want…” Ashton’s sentence trails off because he just can’t fucking force himself to admit it to them. He wants to stop hurting. He wants to go back in time and beg Luke to choose him. He wants to stop feeling so fucking disappointed. He wants things to be different, but they aren’t. Ashton needs to accept that, even though the pain is making his heart feel like it’s seconds away from stopping. Maybe it should. At least then he wouldn’t feel anything anymore. 

“Ashton, it’s okay if you’re hurting. I know you really care about him. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now,” Harry says, his voice so fucking soft it makes Ashton wince. No. Fuck. He can’t do this right now. He can’t fucking do this. He can’t handle the feelings. The emotion in Harry’s voice is enough to make Ashton cringe. He just can’t deal with this right now. He feels far too exposed. 

“We need a new plan. How are we going to find her?” Ashton asks, wanting desperately to change the subject to anything else. He can’t talk about his feelings on a good day much less when he’s hurting this badly. He refuses to break down in front of them, in front of anyone. He’s never even broken down in front of Luke for fuck’s sake, and Luke is really the only person he trusted enough to do that. Trusted. That’s the key word. His trust was very clearly misplaced. 

“I don’t know. He said in the video that he moved her to a different location, and I have 48 hours to decide. I guess I’ll have to give myself up or use myself for bait,” Louis explains, and Ashton doesn’t really remember anything Simon said after his little speech about Luke. Fuck. 48 hours isn’t a lot of time, but they’ve worked with less. He racks his brain for a plan. 

“We don’t have enough manpower to go in and take her by force. There is no way we could fight them by ourselves. You know he’s gonna have as many people as possible around when you surrender,” Ashton says, finding that it helps him come up with plans when he talks through his ideas out loud. It’s their technique. This is how they usually do things. Brainstorm to come up with the best way to go about handling a situation. 

“I could take Anne’s offer?” Louis' voice is hesitant, and he phrases it like a question. It takes Ashton a whole thirty-one seconds to figure out who Anne is before it clicks. Oh. 

“Do you trust them enough to help? I mean, that’s why you didn’t call her for help today. You said you didn’t trust her or her people just yet,” Harry points out, and Ashton was just about to ask the exact same thing. They had discussed utilizing Anne and Selley’s men on today’s mission, but ultimately decided against it. It was too important to risk using people that aren’t loyal to Louis yet. 

“We may have to. I don’t see another option besides actually giving myself up which I refuse to do. I’m not letting this fuck face bastard win,” Louis says, his voice firm and angry. Ashton is so fucking happy that Louis seems to have changed his tune about this. Louis will gladly sacrifice himself if he thinks it will help others, but at this point, it feels like a game. Louis is very competitive, and now that he is actually playing, Ashton knows he will win. 

“When?” Ashton asks, and it seems to be the question on everyone’s mind. 

“Not sure. I’ll call her tonight. We don’t have a lot of time to plan it,” Louis answers, looking at Harry for reassurance. Harry just nods, and they have a silent conversation with their eyes for a few moments. Ashton is between them, and he feels like he is intruding. Like he is watching a conversation he’s not supposed to be a part of, even though he can’t actually hear it. 

“I could give Valentine another call,” Ashton offers, hesitantly. He already knows what Louis is going to say though. 

“No. I’m not letting you do that again. I should have been paying more attention when you told me the stipulations the first time. Asked more questions. I would have never allowed you to enter a fight to the death for me,” Louis says, a blush rising on his cheeks. He did seem a bit distracted when Ashton called him about it. Ashton was vague for a reason, but Louis was clearly doing something else. This makes Ashton wonder exactly what he was doing, and if the way Harry’s eyes drift away is any indication, the question may be more of a ‘who’ rather than a ‘what’ he was distracted by. 

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for your sister. She’s innocent in all of this shit,” Ashton responds, looking up to meet Lottie’s eyes. She is studying him, as if she can’t decide how sincere he is being or if he’s just trying to kiss up. It may be a little bit of both. He doesn’t want Lottie to hate him forever. She’s his best friend’s sister after all. He doesn't even want her to hate Luke, but that’s inevitable it seems. 

“You’re not calling him again,” Harry says, his voice more stern than Ashton has ever heard it. His eyes are passionate, a fire behind them as if he has made up his mind about this. Ashton looks to Louis for help, but he just shrugs then nods his head in agreement. Jesus fucking Christ. One week, and Harry already has Louis’ balls wrapped around his finger like a shiny ring. 

“When do you wanna plan the attack?” Ashton asks, knowing he’s lost this argument already, so he goes back to the original plan. 

“Tomorrow night. I’ll call Anne first, see what she can offer. Sunday night should give us enough time to plan and recoup,” Louis responds, nodding his head with certainty. Ashton nods too, being okay with that plan. It will also give his body a bit more time to heal. He already knows its going to take some arguing with Louis and Harry to allow him to go. Yes. He is including Harry because it seems that Harry makes the decisions just as much as Louis these days. 

“What are we going to do about Luke?” Liam asks suddenly, and Ashton’s heart drops at the mention of his name. Fuck. It needs to stop doing that shit. His heart needs to get in line with his brain and learn not to fucking care. He was really hoping no one would bring up Luke again. He was just starting to forget, but wounds feel fresh all over again. 

“Nothing. He made his choice,” Ashton spits, his tone bitter and full of resentment. He squeezes his hands together once more, clenching his jaw to keep himself from crying at the words. They ring true to him, though. They are the truth. Luke made his choice. Cocaine. That has been his choice all along and Ashton has always come second. 

“Ashton…” Harry starts, but Ashton begins to shake his head, taking a deep breath. He can feel his bottom lip wobbling. He is seconds away from losing it, and no. No that cannot happen in front of them. He is the strong one. He will always be the strong one. They cannot see him cry. They can not see him break. He is broken though. He’s fucking shattered, but if he pretends long enough, then they will think he’s whole. 

“Harry, I know you’re trying to help. I know you don’t know me that well, but please do not argue with me about this. I don’t do well with that false hope shit. Luke made his fucking choice, and it wasn’t me. I need to accept that,” Ashton says, and the fact that his voice cracks with emotion makes him cringe. He doesn’t look at Harry or Louis or anyone. His eyes stay trained on his hands. If he looks at them, he doesn't know what will happen. He can’t hold himself together much longer. He clears his throat and continues, “Can someone please take me home?” 

“Are you sure? You’re still pretty hurt. Is it even safe since Simon knows you’ve been helping us? You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Harry’s voice is hesitant, and it sounds like he wants to say more. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Harry start to reach out for him, but Louis must do something that stops him. Ashton still can’t look at them, he just shakes his head again. 

“Yes. I’m sure. I don’t care if it’s not safe. Simon’s not gonna try shit with me. He thinks he’s won. I want to be alone. I don’t want to be here. I just want to go home and sleep. Please. Just take me home. Call me tonight once you hear back from Anne. I just…” Ashton pauses, letting whatever he is about to say die in his throat. It hangs in the air around them, suspended on the broken chords of ‘what ifs’. 

“Okay. I’ll take you home,” Louis says after a few moments. Relief washes over Ashton’s entire body. He just needs to hang on a little while longer then he will be home where he can drown himself in booze and misery. He tells everyone goodbye then leaves with Louis. 

The drive is quiet, the music playing throughout the car, but Ashton doesn't feel much like singing. Louis must sense Ashton’s need to be alone with his thoughts because he doesn’t try to talk to him. For that Ashton is thankful. 

They say their goodbyes as Ashton gets out of the car, going to his door and unlocking it. As soon as he walks in, he’s reminded of Luke. He can almost see the ghost of their figures as they danced in the living room three nights ago, counting down to Ashton’s possible death. Luke knew that he was going to throw it all away, though. He was letting Ashton risk his life for nothing. 

Ashton ignores the pang in his chest, going into his kitchen and opening a bottle of bourbon. He doesn't even reach for a glass, just nurses from the bottle. It’s hard for him not to fall back on old habits in moments like these, where he is so sad that he doesn't know how to express it. He needs something that will bring him comfort, and sometimes the only thing that helps is hurting himself. He wants to cry, but he’s not sure he can. 

A knock on the door startles him. Did Louis decide not to leave him alone after all? Fuck. What if it’s Luke? What would he say to him? Ashton feels sick at the thought, taking another gulp from the bottle, relishing in the way it burns as it goes down his throat. He considers ignoring it, but there is another knock a few seconds later. With some deep breaths and shaky legs, he makes his way to the door. He doesn’t even look through the peep hole to see who it is, figuring it will be one of two people. 

“Who are you?” Ashton asks in surprise after he opens the door. He was expecting Luke’s tall, broad form, not a man with dark hair, honey brown eyes, and tattoos from head to toe. He smiles at Ashton, almost like he knows him. What the fuck? 

“I’m Zayn. I’m not sure if you remember me.” His voice. Ashton recognizes it from the night of the fight. It was the same voice that Luke had been speaking to. The same one that was in the back of the car with him. The voice that kept telling him to hold on while Luke was gone. The memories come rushing back to him, hitting him like a tidal wave. More pieces of that night resurfacing, making it hard for him to breathe. Zayn helped save him. 

“Yeah. Kind of. I… I remember your voice,” Ashton admits, feeling strangely bare all of a sudden. This man saw Ashton in his weakest moment. He saw Ashton bleeding and on the verge of death. He helped Luke save him. Not that it mattered in the end. None of it mattered because Luke fucking betrayed them. 

“I just wanted to check on you. You were in pretty bad shape,” Zayn says, his eyes scanning over Ashton’s body as if he is looking for any noticeable marks. Ashton has plenty of wounds, but most of them seem to be internal now, as much as Ashton wishes they were external. He understands external pain, it's the internal battles that he hates. 

“I’m doing okay. For the most part. Just a little sore still. Got my eyesight back and everything,” Ashton tells him, and he feels awkward standing at the door like this. He doesn't want to invite him in, though. Zayn is a stranger to him even though he helped save his life, and Ashton just doesn't want company at the current moment. He just wants to drink some more and pass out, maybe add finding a blade into all of that. “Umm.. Thanks for saving my life.” 

“Oh. It was nothing. I didn’t do much. Once Luke brought the doctor in, he took over,” Zayn responds, waving Ashton’s praise off. Wait. What? 

“The doctor?” Ashton asks, confusion drawing his eyebrows together. Luke told him that he and Zayn had stitched him up. He didn’t mention a doctor. Luke couldn’t have gotten a doctor involved, not without Simon finding out. Did Luke call Simon? 

“Yeah. Luke left. Said he had to get a suture kit from his house. He was gone a while. I was getting worried, but when he came back, he had a doctor following him. The doctor stitched you up and examined you. Said you would be fine. That the stab wound to your stomach wasn’t life threatening as long as you kept it clean. Said you had a really bad concussion and your brain was swollen, which caused the temporary blindness. He left after that, then I did too when Luke assured me that he would be alright looking after you by himself,” Zayn explains, and Ashton’s head is spinning. 

“Oh. I um…” Ashton can’t seem to think of a single thing to say. Suddenly Niall’s words from earlier hit Ashton in the face. He said Ashton’s stitches looked professional, but that’s because they were. Luke was also very vague about the details of the events that happened after Ashton had gotten home. This explains a lot, but what does it mean? 

“Is Luke here?” Zayn asks, looking over Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton begins shaking his head, the room coming back into focus. 

“No. He’s not. Look. I’m really tired. It’s been a long few days. I’ll tell him you dropped by. Thank you for helping him then coming to check on me. Means a lot,” Ashton says, his voice sounding far away and hollow, even to his own ears. It’s a lie, though. He won’t tell Luke anything. He will never see him again. 

“Yeah okay. See you around. Have a good night,” Zayn responds with a wave. Ashton smiles at him, then shuts the door, leaning against it. What the fuck? Questions are floating around in Ashton’s head a mile a minute. He wants to talk to Luke, but he also doesn’t want to hear his voice. This new information could mean nothing. Luke still chose drugs and betrayed them. Ashton’s physical condition could have just been an afterthought. Ashton goes back to his bottle of bourbon, taking another swig, and trying to remember if he has a blade lying around that Luke didn’t steal. 

_You use it to feel, and I use it to numb myself_ Luke had said that night, and the words are ringing throughout Ashton’s kitchen as if he is back in that moment. Ashton wants to feel right now. He wants to feel everything. He wants to scream and cry and fucking bleed. He needs to. 

__________

“Where is everyone?” Louis asks to no one in particular once he opens the door to an unusually quiet house. He doesn’t hear any of the chatter that has become a normal part of their new home. Lottie and Niall aren’t arguing like a brother and sister over something stupid. Liam isn’t quietly reading on the corner of the couch. Nothing. It’s not even dark out which is usually when people disperse. 

“Harry!” Louis says, louder this time. Fear prickles his skin, alarm bells ringing in his head. What if he was wrong and Luke told Simon his location? What if Simon kidnapped or killed everyone Louis cares about while he was gone? Fuck. Louis runs through the house, shouting Harry’s name as he goes. 

“Louis? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Harry asks sitting up on the bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Louis enters the bedroom. Louis' heart stutters in his chest at the sight. Harry looks tired, as if he had been asleep, but Louis is just so fucking happy to see that he’s here instead of finding a note from Simon with another threat. Fuck. 

“I’m fine. I just got worried when I came home and didn’t find anyone here. You weren’t answering my calls, and I panicked a bit,” Louis admits, looking down in embarrassment. He doesn't know exactly what he’s embarrassed about. Perhaps because he overreacted, and Simon is clearly starting to get in his head. He hates this. He hates feeling like Simon has already won. 

“That’s understandable. It’s been a really bad day,” Harry says, his voice soft as he looks down at the comforter, the tattoo of the ship on his bicep glinting in the low light of the room. Louis sighs, knowing they should talk about what happened. He wants to put it off for a few more minutes though. 

“I talked to your mom on the way back. She’s happy that I’m accepting her offer and says she has a few trusted men we can use tomorrow night. She just told me to tell her when and where. We can meet with them tomorrow and go over the plan,” Louis explains, and Harry nods in agreement. Louis looks around, realizing once again that the house is eerily quiet. “Where is everyone?”

“Niall and Liam went back to their place, and Lottie decided to go with them. I think she’s a bit upset with everything that happened. She wants you to be mad at Luke,” Harry answers, and Louis’ stomach drops at the mention of Lottie being upset. He hates this. He hates how fractured everything feels. He can’t imagine what Ashton may be going through right now. Louis is still very hurt by Luke’s actions, and Lottie. Fuck. She may never forgive him. 

“I know,” Louis sighs, his body deflating a bit. He just feels so fucking defeated right now. It’s as if he can’t do anything right. “She has every right to be mad at me; I just can’t be mad at Luke. I’m not. I’m upset over what he did, but he obviously is suffering from a disease. He needs help, not our anger.” Harry reaches for Louis then, pulling him onto the bed. Louis falls on it unceremoniously, sighing into the comforter. 

“I agree. It’s a difficult situation. There really isn't a right answer. I’m worried about Ashton, though. He pretends like he’s okay, but I could tell he’s really not. He’s hurting. I don’t know him that well, but do you think he will do something stupid?” Harry asks, his voice laced with concern. Louis turns onto his side to get a better view of his face. 

“I honestly don’t know. We aren’t the type to share our feelings. Ashton has always been kind of stoic about that. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him flinch. Nothing gets to him,” Louis says, speaking from experience. It’s not that he hasn’t tried to get Ashton to open up to him. He has a bit, but nothing substantial. 

“Do you really believe that? I know that I don’t know him as well as you all do, but I think that it’s an act. He was hurting so bad over what happened. I could tell it was eating him up, but he was acting like he was fine. Telling you to be angry at Luke. To me, that’s a defense mechanism instead of actually dealing with his feelings,” Harry responds, and Louis freezes. He’s never really thought about it like that, but he can see where Harry is coming from. Maybe Louis’ shouldn’t have allowed him to go home alone so quickly. 

“I think if we push him too much, he will shut down completely, though,” Louis points out, really considering what Harry is saying. He knows Ashton pretty well, even though they don’t talk about their feelings. The few occasions feelings have even been brought up, Ashton kind of just stopped talking. 

“Maybe. I’m just worried about him,” Harry says, his voice sad. Harry really is a fucking saint. He’s just so kind and considerate of everyone. Pure. Harry is so pure, Louis has trouble processing it. Ashton is supposed to be his friend, and Harry is the one that noticed how hurt he was. What does that say about Louis? Harry is just such a good fucking person, and he deserves all good things in life.

“I have something I want to give you,” Louis blurts out, deciding now is the perfect time to finally give Harry his present. At Harry’s quizzical look, Louis gets off the bed, going to the drawer he has hidden the gift in. He pulls it out, the green velvet box soft in his hand. Harry’s eyes widen in surprise with a glint of confusion. 

“When did you get this?” Harry asks, taking the box from Louis’ after he sits back down on the bed. 

“At Gucci. I saw it when we walked in, and knew I wanted to get it for you. I bought it when I left you in the dressing room to clean up,” Louis explains, smirking with pride. Harry looks shocked, his pretty pink lips forming a small ‘o’. He is running his fingers up and down the box, the fabric turning lighter then darker depending on the direction of the stroke. 

“I can’t believe you,” Harry finally says, looking from it to Louis then back to the box. 

“Open it,” Louis requests, feeling as though he is about to jump out of his skin in anticipation. He can’t keep watching Harry’s long fingers move over the box any longer. He needs him to open it. The damn thing has been burning a hole in Louis’ hiding place since he bought it, but it never felt like the right time to give it to him. 

“Okay. Okay,” Harry responds with a chuckle, his big hands carefully gripping the box and pulling the lid open. He gasps when he sees what’s inside, his green eyes shiny as they roam over the content. Louis is watching his reaction carefully, petrified that Harry will hate the first present Louis has ever given him. Louis hasn’t really given many gifts in his life, as is, so he is probably terrible at it. Suddenly he’s doubting the whole thing. 

“Fuck. You probably already have a strand of pearls don’t you?” Louis blurts out, not being able to stop his self doubt from spilling out. Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Louis cuts him off. “I just saw them and thought they would look so pretty on you. Elegant even. I didn’t think about the fact that you probably already own something like this because you could probably buy those things for yourself…” 

“Lou. Louis,” Harry interrupts, and Louis clamps his mouth shut. The other man is smiling wide, his dimples framing it like a painting. “I love them so much. I don’t have a strand of pearls. I’ve always kind of wanted one, but I never really had the guts to wear something so… feminine? I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”

“What? Really? You always seemed so brave to me with the outfits you choose to wear. I know I really only saw the Mickey Mouse sweater, which, I’m so sorry about that. I’ll buy you a new one. But that big fucking hat you were wearing when we first met, that was so bold. It was a very feminine looking hat so I’m shocked that you didn’t feel like you could wear pearls,” Louis says, and Harry just shrugs in response. He starts frowning a moment later, and Louis immediately knows something is wrong. 

“I don’t deserve them,” Harry sniffles, looking down at the pearls sadly, and what? 

“That’s my line,” Louis jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Harry doesn't really laugh though, and Louis automatically feels bad for it. He decides to try to get to the root of the comment instead. “Why do you feel like you don’t deserve them?” 

“I froze today, Lou.” Harry’s voice is small, barely above a whisper, eyes still trained on the pearls, fingers gently touching them. Louis is still very confused. 

“What do you mean you froze?” Louis asks, thinking back to the events of the day. Everything went so fast, it feels like a blur. As if his brain can’t focus on one moment because when it pauses, everything is distorted with motion. Most of what he remembers is his anger at Luke. He really would have fucking shot him if Harry hadn’t been there to stop him. He would have regretted it though. 

“Today. When that guy was getting ready to shoot you, I froze. I couldn’t do it. All I could see was my dad standing over you, in the very same position. I pulled the trigger then. I watched his dead body fall to the floor. I watched the light leave his eyes and blood gush from his head all because of my actions. That’s all I could see. I froze,” Harry explains, his voice taking on a hysterical quality. Louis’ heart is breaking for him. He didn’t even realize Harry had frozen. He just assumed he was finishing his own battle. He knew Ashton shot the man. 

“Harry, it’s okay,” Louis starts but is cut off by Harry. 

“No it’s not! You needed me! You need me to be a person that is strong enough to do this sort of thing. You need a partner that won’t fucking freeze when your life is in danger! I can’t though. I don’t know if I can ever truly harden my heart to do that. If I can kill someone without it being self defense. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be in this,” Harry says, his voice starting off loud and hysterical but losing momentum halfway through his speech. 

“Harry. No. That’s not what I need. I need someone to keep me grounded. I need an anchor. I need a moral compass. I need a home and stability. I need someone to remind me that I’m fucking human. That I hurt and bleed. That people love me. You. I need you.” Harry starts crying halfway through Louis’ speech, fat tears streaming down his face. He is looking at Louis in a way that makes his heart stutter in his chest, as if an unknown force has wrapped a band around it, constricting it’s beating. 

“A-are you sure?” Harry asks, his voice small and watery. 

“Yes. I’m positive. As long as you’re still okay with me doing some questionable things, I don’t expect you to partake in them,” Louis says, putting as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster. 

“Yeah. I’m fine with that, I think. Like I said before, I made a choice when I shot my father then jumped off that cliff with you. I don’t regret that decision. I just… I don’t think I can ever kill anyone without reason. And I know he had a gun to your head, so there was a reason this time. I just… all I saw was my dad,” Harry explains, his face twisting in anguish again. 

“Oh baby. I know. I understand. You’re not gonna get over that in a few days. It hasn’t even been a week. It makes sense that you froze. Anyone in your position would have. I don’t expect you to be superman or super-mafia or whatever. I expect you to be Harry. We will take care of the rest,” Louis says, smiling when Harry laughs at his lame joke. 

“Thank you,” Harry sniffles, wiping his eyes and smiling at Louis. Fuck. There is that constricting feeling in his chest again. He loves this man with everything he has in him. “Will you put these on for me?” Harry holds the pearls out to Louis, his green eyes big. Louis nods, carefully taking them from Harry. He waits for Harry to turn around, then fastens them around the long column of Harry’s neck. He kisses next to them, then kisses Harry when he turns around. The kiss is wet, salty, and perfect in every way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck... I really really really hope you can forgive Luke by the end of this... also... ain't larry so cute!


	14. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep reading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning... mentions of self-harm. Just wanted to put that out there. Nothing graphic but there are mentions and fresh marks
> 
> I am very proud of this chapter. It was much needed. I am very nervous to post though, for obvious reasons. I never really saw myself at like... good... at conveying emotions and this chapter is packed full of them. I hope you love it as much as I do! 
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with the constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_I felt you slip away so slowly  
_ _I lost my grip a little more each time we touched  
_ _I've got no hope I guess I'll never get it back again  
_ _Eh, eh, eh felt like I was just wasting time  
_ _Before you pulled the trigger  
_ _It's the drawing of the line  
_ _It's my ghost you're going to give up- Lewis Capaldi_

  
  
  


**_Sunday Morning…._ **

Ashton wakes up to the sound of someone pounding on his door. It’s nothing compared to the pounding in his head though. He must have gotten hammered last night. He doesn't even remember it, but he feels like he is seconds away from throwing up. He tries to ignore the pounding, but it only gets louder and more incessant. He groans, forcing his body out of bed, staggering when the room starts to spin. He closes his eyes, righting himself, before he opens them again, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the room. 

As he makes his way to the front door, he is so disoriented he doesn't even bother to put a shirt on nor check to see who it is. He is just gonna scream at them to go away. His head is throbbing as if someone is squeezing it over and over again. His eyes hurt. His stomach is unsettled. He doesn’t even fucking remember how he got in this state, but he needs to take some meds and go back to bed. 

“What.” Ashton’s tone is harsh when he opens the door, practically hissing when the sunlight hits his retinas and the cool air flows over his bare torso. He is blinded for a solid thirty-seven seconds before he is able to blink enough to see the outline of a person. The longer he stares at the person, the more they come into focus. Tall and skinny. Blond curls. Perfect cupid’s bow-shaped mouth. Pale skin. Luke. 

Suddenly, all of the memories from the day before hit him like a baseball bat to the head. With each new throb, another memory resurfaces. Simon’s words. Luke’s betrayal. Ashton coming home to get shitfaced. He drank his sadness into a bottle of bourbon. The rest is blurry. He mostly just remembers feelings. Hopelessness. Pain. Loss. 

“I didn’t think you’d answer the door,” Luke says, snapping Ashton out of his fuzzy memories. 

“I wouldn’t have if I knew it was you,” Ashton responds, keeping his voice cold. He can’t even stand to look at Luke right now, his stomach rolling at the memories of yesterday. Ashton begins to shut the door in Luke’s face, not wanting to further his nausea. 

“Ashton, please,” Luke says, shoving his boot-clad foot into the doorway to stop Ashton from closing it completely. Ashton opens it, a little more, only being able to see half of Luke’s body. He looks sad. His skin is pale. He has dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, skin dry and flaky as if he has been crying. He has a slight tremor in his hands, much like his voice. His hair is a mess, curls sticking out in different directions. He’s wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, despite the cool air outside, as if he couldn’t be bothered to put on a coat. 

“Why are you even here? Were you sent to kidnap me? Maybe you’re gonna torture me for information since Simon doesn’t have a little birdy on the inside anymore? You know you’ll have to kill me, right? I won't betray my friends, unlike you.” Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s just the fact that Ashton feels like he has nothing more to lose, but he can’t force himself to have a filter right now. He doesn't care if he hurts Luke with his words. 

“No. I…” Luke starts, but Ashton cuts him off. He can’t do this right now. He can’t stand here and listen to Luke’s lies. He just wants to go back to bed, maybe drink some more, prepare for the fight that is going to happen tonight when they go, and rescue Poppy for good. He doesn't have time for Luke’s bullshit. His heart can’t handle it. 

“Go away. I don’t want to see you,” Ashton sighs, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Well has been exhausted since the moment he was woken up. His head is just fucking pounding. He can’t deal with this right now. He tells himself he doesn’t care that Luke looks as bad as Ashton feels. He tells himself that he doesn't notice the tremor in Luke’s hand or the sadness in his voice. Ashton pretends he is unfazed by all of that. 

“I know. I understand. I just… please just hear me out,” Luke begs, blinking away tears. Ashton sighs again. He’s never been very good at saying ‘no’ to Luke. That’s what has gotten him in this mess. Luke’s eyes are pleading, but there is also a look of determination there that Ashton has only ever seen when Luke is trying to hack into a very secure computer system. He is looking at Ashton as though he really has something he needs to say, and he’s not leaving until Ashton lets him say it. 

“Luke,” Ashton says, opening the door completely, and Luke’s eyes widen in surprise, then his brows crease in worry, fixated on Ashton’s arm. What? 

“Ashton. Shit. Are you-” Luke acts like he’s not sure how to ask his question, and Ashton is even more confused. He looks at his arm, finding red cuts on it, blood dried there. At the site, more memories resurface. Ashton had cried as he cut himself over and over, sitting in his shower, watching the blood and tears flow down the drain. He just wanted to feel. He wanted to control one thing in his out-of-control life. He wanted to punish himself forever allowing it to get to this. He wanted a lot of things out of his actions, and he had forgotten all of his reasons. 

“Don’t act like you care,” Ashton scoffs, not even bothering to hide it. He’s hasn’t hidden his scars before, and he sure as fuck isn’t gonna hide new marks either. He walks away from the door, leaving it open for Luke to come inside. He supposes they are going to do this, but he needs to take some meds. His brain is throbbing, seconds away from bursting out of his skull and bathing the world in Ashton’s misery. 

“I do care. I care about you,” Luke says, his voice soft. Ashton ignores him, going over to his kitchen counter, picking up a bottle of pain meds then going to the fridge to get a bottle of water. He swallows down the meds in one gulp, then forces himself to drink the entire bottle, despite his rolling stomach. He feels a bit better almost instantly. He still can’t look at Luke though.

“You didn’t come here to talk about me. What did you want to tell me? I wanna get this over with. I have shit to do today,” Ashton says, his tone harsh, despite the fact that he feels like he can’t fucking breathe. His heart is breaking all over again with the lies that have already spewed from Luke’s mouth. 

“I found Poppy,” Luke blurts out, and that has Ashton pausing, his gaze finally landing on Luke. “She’s in a house on the outskirts of town. A man named Mickey Melone owns the property.” Luke looks like he's telling the truth, but Ashton still doesn’t trust him. He can’t. 

“Mickey Melone? Isn’t he dead?” Ashton asks, recognizing the name. He’s only ever heard stories about him. He was Simon’s best friend. His specialty was assassinations. They pretty much built the business together, even though it was inherited from Simon’s father. They made it what it is today, though. 

“He didn’t. It was fake. He never died. He’s alive. I don’t know why he faked his death, but that’s a mystery for another day. I found Poppy, though. That’s where she is being kept,” Luke explains, laying some papers down on Ashton’s kitchen island. Ashton didn’t even realize he was holding papers. Jesus fuck. He needs to get a grip on his head. 

“How did you find her? Did Simon tell you?” Ashton asks, venom in his tone. He is squinting at Luke, watching for any tells to indicate that he is lying about something. His body language doesn’t really give Ashton hints to any sort of deceit. Ashton glances down at the papers. The one on top looks like coordinates. 

“No. I stayed up all night and hacked into Simon’s email. Found a message from a name I didn’t recognize. I traced that email back to this house,” Luke tells him, pointing to the coordinates, then flipping to the next page to show an address and location on Google maps. 

“So? That’s not proof. All that proves is that Simon was emailing some dude. Did the emails mention Poppy?” Ashton questions, still unsure of where Luke is going with this. Is he just making shit up as a last-ditch effort to get Ashton to forgive him? If so, then that’s fucked up, and Ashton is going to be pissed off. This conversation better have a fucking point. 

“They were encrypted, so I couldn’t read them. I tried to break the code, but it was almost impossible. I decided to find Simon’s phone records instead. That was simple enough. I found that he had made several phone calls over the last few days to the same number. Again, the number belonged to Mickey Melone,” Luke says, flipping the page once again and pointing down to Simon’s phone records. Highlighted are several phone calls to the same number. 

“Could it just be someone with the same name or someone that had taken his name? Maybe he had a son,” Ashton responds, still not seeing what any of this shit has to do with Poppy. If Luke doesn’t get to it soon, he is going to throw his ass out because clearly, he is just here to waste his time and try to manipulate him. 

“It’s him. I didn’t believe it either, but I know it’s him,” Luke insists, his voice unwavering and certain. 

“How? And what does that have to do with Poppy?” Ashton asks, beginning to get very irritated. His head is still pounding, his eyes feel like they are seconds away from popping out of his skull. He can’t handle all of this shit right now. He is at the end of his rope with Luke, especially after yesterday. The fact that he is even standing in his kitchen shows how much Ashton’s judgment is suffering from his hangover. 

“I’m getting to that. So then I hacked into traffic light camera footage. Found where Simon and his men transported Poppy before we got to the warehouse. I basically used the traffic cameras from all over the city to trace where they went. Once they got out of the city, it was much more difficult since there aren’t any traffic cams,” Luke explains, and Ashton can only stare at him. Jesus fuck. That must have taken hours to do. Even thinking about the amount of skill and deductive reasoning required for that kind of task makes Ashton’s head hurt. 

“So you lost them,” Ashton finishes, sighing. If Luke lost them, then what the fuck is the point of this entire story? 

“I did, but then I thought of something else. Simon has a tracker on all of his vehicles, so I just hacked into that system because I knew which van she was in. It was hidden behind a bunch of firewalls, but I finally managed to do it after a few hours,” Luke says, his speech becoming faster and his gestures more animated with excitement. Ashton can’t help but smile. He loves it when Luke gets all nerdy and uses words like ‘firewall’ and ‘encrypted’. It’s kind of a turn-on, but Ashton will not allow his dick to twitch. 

“Okay, that proves that Poppy is there if she was even in that van, but that doesn’t prove that Melone is still alive,” Ashton says, his brain beginning to process all of this information. Luke shows him another printout of a map, this one has blue dots to represent a route. Ashton assumes that this is the route the van took to transport Poppy out of town. 

“She is. After I figured out the address, I looked for security cameras on properties surrounding the area. The neighbor across the street has cameras everywhere, including one at their gate. I hacked into it and got a glimpse of our dear Mr. Melone. It’s him. He’s older, but it’s definitely him.” Luke moves his papers to reveal a picture. Ashton’s eyebrows hit his hairline in surprise. Holy fuck. Mickey Melone. “And here you can see Poppy.”

Next, Luke shows him a blurry black and white photograph. Ashton has to squint to make out what’s in the photo0, but he can definitely see a short figure, two men holding on to the person, a black hood over their face. It looks like it may be dark outside, but Ashton can see the van. It’s the same one Luke had tracked, and that’s proof enough for Ashton. It has to be her, but Ashton can’t help being suspicious. He doesn't trust Luke, and he hates himself for it. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? It could be another setup. Simon could have told you to say all of this and given you all of this shit. It could be some elaborate plan to get all of us to go to this house that will explode as soon as we walk in the door.” Ashton knows he sounds crazy and paranoid, but it’s hard to trust him. Simon is evil and manipulative. He knows how much effort it would take to convince Ashton of anything, so he wouldn’t put it past Simon. He just has this inkling in the back of his head that tells him Luke isn’t lying. Maybe that's just the love he has for Luke fogging his judgment. 

“I swear to you, it’s not. I’ve been up all night doing this. I didn’t even attempt to do it before because I really didn’t think it was possible, and we didn’t even have her last known location or a time or anything. We did this time and I- I-” 

“I’m sorry. I’m just finding it hard to believe anything you say,” Ashton cuts him off, shaking his head. Luke looks defeated for a split second, and it breaks Ashton’s heart. He just can't listen to this shit anymore. Every time Luke lies, it feels like the knife Luke embedded in his chest the day before is twisted. His heart now resembles a shredded piece of meat that has been put through a blender. 

“I know! I know I fucked up, but I’m trying to make it right. Yesterday broke me. I went home and got so fucked up. I don’t even remember. I shot up again. I drank. I don’t know how I’m not fucking dead, but I woke up alone and realized that I need to change,” Luke says, his blue eyes are pleading but they are alight again with fire. That part has Ashton pausing. He looks at Luke for what feels like an eternity, allowing himself to drown in the sight before him for just a few more minutes before he takes a deep breath, shocked his lungs are full of air and not water. 

“It’s too late Luke. I- I just can’t. I can’t keep doing this shit. It’s insanity. I just- I can’t keep fucking participating in this fucking circle jerk we’re in,” Ashton says, his voice sad. He blinks a few times, trying to keep his tears at bay. He hates crying, and he hates it, even more, when he’s crying over a lost cause. Something that will never ever change. Tears won’t make Luke change. Tears won’t magically fix this situation. Tears won’t rescue him from this cycle of fucked up misery. Walking away will, though. 

“Please. You don’t understand! It wasn’t what you think it was,” Luke yells, his blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. He is clearly frustrated with Ashton, but Ashton is sick of biting his tongue. He is sick of never voicing his thoughts. If this is going to end, he needs to voice it because Luke won’t give up any other way. Luke will continue to think what he did was okay because drugs are so damn important to him. 

“What do I not understand, Luke? You fed us to the fucking lions and for what? Drugs. The blow was more important to you than your friends. Than me.” It almost hurts for Ashton to say that last part, feeling far too raw at the moment. It’s like his entire body is covered in cuts, not just his arm, and being in Luke’s presence is like diving into the ocean. Ashton is tired of swimming. He’s tired of holding his breath in the hopes of sprouting gills. This ocean will kill him unless he removes himself from it completely. The ocean can never be anything other than an ocean. 

“It wasn’t the drugs,” Luke insists, turning away to start pacing, and Ashton walks around the counter so there is nothing separating them any longer. Luke finally stops to look at Ashton, his eyes full of guilt. “Well it was at first. I admit that. It was, but I would have never set you up deliberately. I didn’t know it was a fucking set up, Ash. You have to believe me. I thought we would go there and find nothing. I didn’t know he was planning to kill you.”

Ashton is shaking his head again, crossing his arms over his chest in a weak attempt to protect his heart from this. He can’t believe what Luke is saying. Does he call that justification? “That doesn't really fucking matter, Luke. I don’t care if you knew it was a setup or not. What matters is that you fucking gave Simon information, and you’ve been doing it for how long? You sold Poppy off for drugs. Because of your fucking habit…” Ashton is cut off by Luke’s voice. 

“He was going to kill you!” Luke screams, his eyes wide as he slams his hand down on the counter as if the sound is an exclamation mark. Ashton jumps, not expecting the outburst. Luke is breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling in quick movements. He looks like he is seconds away from crying, and Ashton has to resist the urge to tell him not to cry. To wipe away his tears. No. He isn’t going to do that anymore. He will no longer be Luke’s fucking punching bag. 

“What?” Ashton asks, Luke’s words finally sinking in. What the fuck does Luke mean? Of course, Simon was going to kill him. It was a fucking setup, but Luke claims he didn’t know anything about it. 

“Simon was going to kill you, Ash,” Luke repeats, his big body deflating on a sigh as if he’s given up. Ashton feels the same way. He has given up on them, on making this work, but he is still confused by Luke’s words. 

“When?” Ashton asks because that seems to be the part that is missing. If Luke didn’t know about the setup, then what is he talking about? 

“After your fight. I went home to grab a suture kit because the one thing we didn’t prepare for was a stab wound. Cherry was there. She said Simon wanted me to call him. Had a veiled threat of a burn order. Said if I didn’t call, he had someone outside that was sent to bring me to him. I was so scared,” Luke’s voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes far away as if he is reliving the memory. Ashton can tell by his voice that Luke was petrified. He would have been too. 

“So I called him. He tried to get me to tell him what we knew. I refused. He said he had a car outside your house. There were two people in it. He said one was a doctor and one was a gunman. It was my choice who he sent in,” Luke explains, a tear trailing down his cheek, the ‘I’m sorry’ hanging in the air between them. Luke’s blue eyes are guilty, and Ashton feels lost in them like he’s drowning at sea. 

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Niall saying that the sutures looked professional. Zayn and his comment about the doctor. It all makes sense. Luke chose the doctor instead of the gunman, but Ashton is still mad. It’s still fucking betrayal. “You could have let me die. I was ready,” Ashton says, voice strong and sure. 

“But I wasn’t!” Luke screams turning away from Ashton to shove his hands into his loose curls, pulling them in frustration. Ashton watches Luke take some deep breaths, clearly trying to compose himself. Ashton is surprised Luke hasn’t stormed out yet. He normally does at this point in a fight, but instead, he turns around, facing Ashton once more. “It’s not always about what you want.”

“I know I’m a fucking selfish bastard, Luke. You don’t have to tell me shit I already fucking know,” Ashton responds, spitting the words like poison. Ashton knows these things about himself. He knows he’s a terrible fucking person. He knows he’s selfish. He doesn't need Luke to remind him of that. 

“You’re not selfish, Ash. I am. I wanted to keep you. I wanted you to live. I thought that if you lived, then we could work this out. I didn’t know it was a set up. I promised myself that I would change. That I would clean myself up. That I could be someone you deserve. Someone you could love,” Luke says. Something about the statement makes Ashton angry, the filter he so carefully placed on his words finally shifting to reveal his innermost thoughts. 

“I do love you! Don’t you fucking understand that!” Ashton screams, and he didn’t even mean to say it out loud. It just came out because of the absurdity of Luke’s statement. He doesn't give Luke a chance to respond because if he doesn't say this now, he never will. “And you fucking betrayed me! I trusted you! I trusted you with everything I have, and you’ve been feeding information Simon all along!” Ashton is crying now, using one long finger to poke Luke’s chest, punctuating each sentence. 

___________

“You’ve never said that!” Luke yells back because all of this is brand new fucking information to him. Ashton flinches, and Luke feels even worse. He knows he hurt Ashton, but he never thought it was this much. Ashton has always just seemed… untouchable. As if nothing could hurt him, but Luke knew that was an act. He is seeing it first hand as Ashton slowly begins to unravel. The fact that he is actually crying in front of Luke is astounding, but it’s not enough. Just saying he loves him suddenly isn’t enough, as much as Luke’s heart thinks it is. 

“I thought I made it fucking clear,” Ashton responds, voice quieter this time, but Luke immediately starts to shake his head. Ashton has never given any indication of his feelings for Luke. Nothing. He’s never even so much as said the word until now. Luke cannot read his fucking mind, and Ashton needs to understand that. He needs to communicate or this will never fucking work. 

“No you haven’t. You just always shut yourself off. You are so fucking hard to reach, Ashton. It’s like you’re in a different dimension half of the damn time. You’re just so disconnected. It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall or I have to hold a seance to even carry on a conversation with you sometimes because you’re on a different plane of existence. I can’t fucking touch you. It’s like I just go right through you,” Luke says, frustration prominent in the inflection of his voice. 

“Don’t you think I know that!” Ashton yells, the veins and muscle in his throat flexing with the outburst. His hands are balled into fists, his hazel eyes gleaming with emotion. Fucking finally. Luke almost feels bad for being so relieved that Ashton is crying. That he’s showing emotions. He’s starting to crack. It feels like it needs to be done. That they both need to break one final time before they can make themselves right. 

“Then change! Talk to me. Let me in,” Luke begs, wanting Ashton to see how much his indifference actually hurts him. Their relationship has been like a pressure cooker, the lid ready to blow at any second, and Luke can feel it finally giving way. “Sometimes I try to express myself to you, and you make me feel like a fucking psycho. You say that I’m being irrational. And I know that I am irrational sometimes, but I don’t like it when you just fucking dismiss my feelings.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dismiss your feelings. Please believe me when I say that. I just… I don’t know how to let you in. It’s like I have this mental block in my head that will not let me share my feelings with anyone. I try. I feel like I’m screaming sometimes, but it’s only in my head. I can’t force myself to say it. I don’t know how,” Ashton says, beginning to hit his head repeatedly as if each blow will dislodge whatever he was referring to. 

“Stop that, Ash.” Luke wraps his fingers around Ashton’s wrist, trying to stop him from hurting himself further. Luke is trying not to panic at the sight of the broken man before him. He has never seen Ashton this sad. He has never seen him crack. He’s always been a robot, unflinching and unyielding. The person in front of him right now is human, and Luke isn’t sure how to react. He will not run, though. 

“Don’t you see! This is my way of expressing myself! This shit!” Ashton yells, holding out his arm to show the fresh marks. Luke flinches. They look angry, blood dried around each cut, and Luke wants nothing more than to kiss them. “This is how I say I’m hurting. This is the only way I can show it to the world around me how I feel because I don’t know another way to fucking express myself. I scream, and no one can hear me. It’s like I’m underwater.” Ashton is screaming, fat tears streaming down his face.

“Ash…” Luke starts, but he is at a loss for words. He doesn't know what to say to help him. He never thought about self-harm like that, but it makes sense. Ashton clearly doesn't know how to express his pain in any other way. Luke had no idea he was hurting this much. He had no idea that Ashton cared about him enough to be in this amount of pain when Luke betrayed him. It’s startling and eye-opening. Luke feels like he’s been punched in the face by the realization. 

“But when I bleed, Luke. You can see it! You can see my blood in the water. You can smell it. You can fucking see it, and I know that you know. You know I’m fucking hurt even though I can’t say it out loud. I’m hurting, Luke! You fucking hurt me! It hurt so much that I cried for hours last night. The only way to show it, is by making myself fucking bleed!” Ashton’s loud screams fill every inch of the space around them, making it harder for Luke to breathe. Tears are still streaming down Ashton’s broad face, falling to the floor below. 

“You’ve never told me any of this. You won’t let me in. I feel like I’m screaming at a wall too, but the wall is you. I feel so fucking crazy sometimes. It’s like I push and I push and you just keep fucking pulling away, but then I feel fucking insane because you’re right in front of my face. You kiss me. You fuck me. You’re inside of me, but I’m still not fucking touching you, and I don’t understand _how_ ,” Luke says, the tone of his voice passionate. He gestures wildly, with his speech, leaning down at the end to look Ashton in the eyes because he means every single word, and it’s about time it’s said. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucked up that I don’t know how to show basic human emotions. I want to. I try so hard. I know it probably doesn’t seem that way, but I really fucking do. There is just something in me that I can’t seem to get past. It’s like a block that literally won’t allow me to say what I’m thinking. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know how to fix it. I just know I can’t make you happy,” Ashton says, his voice calmer now and sounding defeated all over again. He’s looking down, so Luke can’t see his eyes. He knows he is still crying though, drops falling onto the floor every few seconds. 

“Why can’t you?” Luke asks, genuinely confused by Ashton’s comment. Ashton makes him incredibly happy especially when things are good. 

“Because I’m not cocaine,” Ashton responds as if the answer is so obvious, and he has accepted it. Luke begins to shake his head because that’s simply not true. His heart aches that Ashton ever even thought that. Ashton continues, not allowing Luke a moment to deny the claim, “You will always choose that drug over me. You love being high. You love the feeling of it. You said so yourself. Drugs make you happy.”

“I told you I will get clean,” Luke starts, but Ashton has begun shaking his head again, a tear flinging to hit Luke’s own cheek. 

“No you won’t. You said that you need it,” Ashton insists, and fuck. Luke fucked up so badly. He never realized how much his drug habit actually affected Ashton. Luke wants to cry at the hurt expression coating Ashton’s features. Luke hurt him. He has been hurting him, and Ashton just never knew how to say it. Luke has been so absorbed in his own fucking pain and misery, that he never took two seconds to look at Ashton and see how much he was hurting. Luke needs to correct Ashton’s claims. He needs Ashton to understand. 

“I need you more! I need us! I need this! You!” Luke shouts, grabbing Ashton’s shoulder, forcing him to hold his gaze. Softer, he says “You’re like a drug sometimes. The other night, I didn’t even use coke, and I felt like I was fucking flying when we were together. It was the best high I’ve ever felt. I realized that I don’t need drugs to feel that way. All I need is you. I need you with me, in the moment. I need to feel like I’m touching you because then it’s a contact high. I need to breathe you in. It gets me high. You get me high. You’re my happiness, not cocaine.” 

“You’re telling me you will quit,” Ashton asks, his voice tiny and hopeful. He is looking at Luke with big hazel eyes, and there is something there that he’s not sure he’s ever seen before. Faith. It’s almost as if he has faith in Luke. That he has faith in this. In them. He has never, in all his life, seen Ashton look so hopeful. Ashton’s walls finally came down, and he is showing Luke who he is. Luke will cherish this. He will give Ashton something to believe in if it’s the last thing he does on this Earth. 

“Yesterday was the last time. I haven’t used in hours. I know that probably doesn't seem like a lot, but it is for me. It was so hard last night. I wanted to. I was exhausted. I wanted to use it to help me stay awake, but I didn’t. I want to stop, but you have to stop, too. You have to stop the drinking and the self-harm. You have to learn to communicate. We both do. Please, Ash,” Luke begs, wanting them both to have a fresh start. They need to do this together. 

“Luke, I-” Ashton says, his entire body shaking as if he is barely holding himself up. Luke cuts him off because he needs to say this. He realizes he hasn’t said the most important thing. 

“I love you, Ashton. I love you so fucking much, and I’m sorry that I made you feel as though I cared more about my drugs than I did you. That’s not the truth. You have to believe me. Please. I’m tired of fighting. I just want to be with you. I want us to fucking fix this. I love you. I love you because of your flaws, and if you can love me because of mine then we can make this work.” Luke wants to kiss him, but he doesn't want to overstep his boundaries. He doesn't know where Ashton’s head is right now. He doesn't want this fight to just end in a kiss that makes them forget. He wants them to remember this. 

“I can. I do. I’ll stop drinking. I’ll stop hurting myself. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll learn to talk to you, and let you in. I don’t want to lose you. Not again. I can’t. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t make it clear. I’m sorry you felt unloved. I’m sorry that I made you feel crazy. I’m so sorry, Luke,” Ashton says, falling to his knees as if his body has finally given out. Luke follows him down because, to be honest, he would follow Ashton off a cliff if that’s where he led him. 

“I’ll go to therapy, too. I’ll work on my self-esteem and my insecurities. I’ll work on my constant need for attention. I’ll go to rehab. Maybe we can find a clinic together. I’ll fix my shit too because we are both fucked up. It’s not just you. We’re both shit at communicating. I scream so loudly, that it drowns out your cries for help, and I never want to do that again. I never want to ignore that you’re hurting because I’m too self-absorbed to see,” Luke says, grabbing Ashton’s face to look at him. He’s crying again, they both are. Luke uses a thumb to swipe away Ashton’s tears, relishing in the fact that Ashton is letting him do that. Ashton is allowing the small, comforting gesture. 

“Really?” Ashton asks, his voice thick. He sniffles, and he is so beautiful at that moment, it hurts Luke’s soul. Ashton’s hazel eyes are shining with life, and he’s here. He is in front of him, and Luke finally feels like he is touching him, his hand is touching something solid and real. That Ashton is present and in the moment and so fucking real, it hurts. It’s the best kind of hurt, though. It’s not fake. It’s not a chemical reaction. It’s bare and beautiful and perfect in every way. 

“Yes, but…” Luke swallows around the emotion in his throat, taking a deep breath, knowing this next question will make or break them. “Can you trust me again? I know I fucked up with Simon, but I really want to make it right. He was going to kill you. I had to. I had to tell him. I know I could have told you after, but I knew you would hate me. I know I fucked up. I own up to my mistakes, but I swear to you, Ash, I didn’t know it was a trap. I thought we would find an empty warehouse then reconvene. I’m so sorry. When you were bleeding, and Louis wouldn’t let me touch you, I felt so helpless. I was so worried about you. After I got home, I wanted to die. I had hoped I would OD.”

“I know. I know, baby,” Ashton shushes, his voice soft in comparison to the hysterical quality Luke’s has taken on. He just needs Ashton to know that he didn’t outright betray him. Not in the way he thought. Yes, Luke’s previous actions with Simon were questionable, but he never felt like he gave him information he couldn’t have gotten a different way. Now he sees that Simon had just been trying to drive an ice pick through their solid friend group. He was trying to fracture it and saw Luke as the weakest link. He didn’t need information, he needed people to not be loyal to Louis. 

“Then I woke up, and I knew I didn’t want to live my life without you, as fucked up as we are together,” Luke continues as if Ashton didn’t even say anything. “I knew I needed to try to do something to win you back. To gain your trust again. I never want to lose you again. I never want to see you look so disappointed in me, so I tried. I found Poppy! I swear! I fucking found her, and I want to help. I want to prove to you that I’m in this. That I’m loyal to Louis and that you can trust that. I know I’m fucked up, and I know that we fuck each other up. I just… I really think we also heal each other too, and we don’t even realize it.”

“We do,” Ashton agrees, his voice so soft, it feels like a gentle caress against his battered body. Ashton’s face is inches away from Luke’s, and the moment feels intimate somehow. The countless times they’ve fucked and came together is nothing compared to the intimacy of this moment. Kneeling on the floor after confessing their feelings, breathing each other in. Luke still can’t believe Ashton actually loves him, but he needs to. He doesn't want to question Ashton’s feelings. 

“Please forgive me. Please, Ash. I can’t promise I will never fuck up again. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I do promise that I will always choose you. I love you. I love you so much. I love the high you give me. I’ve never floated more. Just let me in your head. Let me in. Float with me, and let me sink with you.” Luke’s words are quiet, slight pleading quality to his tone. It feels like Ashton has already let him in. Ashton’s icy exterior finally melted away to Luke’s flames. The steam they created has turned into water. They are sinking into it. Together. Luke has never felt more free. 

“I forgive you, baby. I’m so sorry we didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry you wanted to die. I’ll learn to float. I’ll learn to breathe underwater. I’ll adapt. I’ll let you in. I’ll let you see every side of me, every single fucked up version of myself. I will introduce you to my monsters. I just pray that you’ll still love me,” Ashton says, another tear falling off his lashes and onto Luke’s hand. Luke doesn't mind. He will take all of Ashton’s tears. He will take every single thing Ashton gives him. 

“I will. I’ll still love you. I’ll even buy them fucking coffee,” Luke jokes, smiling at Ashton when he giggles. It’s the cutest laugh Luke has ever heard, and he’s not sure how he’s never stopped to admire it. Luke feels like he is coming out of a fog. Maybe he couldn’t see Ashton in front of him because of his own self-absorbed fog. The fog has finally turned into condensation. “I love every aspect of you. Your scars. Your shitty communication skills that we will work on together. You unfathomable logic. Your tendency to dissociate. All of it.”

“Touch me,” Ashton murmurs, finally crashing their lips together. Ashton tastes like the ocean they’re sinking into. Dark and salty. Maybe they aren’t sinking, maybe they're floating. Is there really a difference? In the water, is there a difference between up and down until you reach the bottom or the surface? Ashton makes him feel high. The only drug Luke ever wants again is the one coating Ashton’s skin. 

“What about Louis? Don’t we need to tell him about Poppy?” Luke asks, breaking their kiss to look into Ashton’s eyes. This is Luke’s way of showing that he isn’t jealous of Louis anymore. He never should have been. He just let his own insecurities cloud his judgment. Louis is a brother to Ashton, and he knows that now. He just hopes Louis forgives him. 

“Fuck Louis. It can wait. I need you. You matter more. I need you to touch me. I need to prove to you that I can be present. Maybe not every day, but today. I can be with you. We can be more,” Ashton says against his lips, and for some reason, the statement warms Luke’s heart and soul. He listened. Ashton listened to him. He didn’t just scream at a wall. Ashton wants to make this work too, and the amount of relief Luke feels in that moment is unmeasurable. 

“Okay,” Luke responds, kissing Ashton again, this time more deeply, their tongues battling for dominance. Luke doesn't know how it happens. One minute they are kissing on the floor that Ashton was lying on when Luke snorted coke off his dick not even a week ago and the next, they are making their way towards the bedroom, mouths never leaving each other. 

“What do you want?” Ashton asks when they get into the bedroom, pulling Luke’s shirt over his head with the question. Luke’s hands immediately go down the waste band of Ashton’s sweatpants, pushing them and his underwear down his shapely thighs leaving them to pool on the floor. Ashton’s hands have found the button on Luke’s jeans, popping it easily with nimble fingers. 

“I wanna taste you,” Luke answers without hesitation, but that has Ashton pausing as he begins to pull Luke’s tight jeans down his thighs. It’s something he’s always wanted to do, but Ashton has never let him. Ashton has always been the type to prefer to give pleasure rather than receive, but Lukes’ mouth is watering for it. It will be the ultimate show of trust, and Luke doesn't take that lightly. 

“Okay,” Ashton responds, his eyes wide and the answer sounding weak. Luke is about to tell him he doesn't have to before Ashton begins to nod his head. “Okay. Yeah. I’d really like that. Do you want me on my hands and knees or...?” He is looking at Luke with wide hazel eyes, trust radiating off him. Luke swallows. Ashton has never given him this kind of complete and utter control. 

“No. I want to 69. That way you can open me up while I eat your ass,” Luke responds, smiling broadly. He doesn't want to push Ashton too far, so he chose a somewhat normal position for them. They’ve 69ed before, just not in this exact way. Ashton nods, going over to his bedside table to grab the lube, then he lays down. His naked body is splayed over the bed like an offering as if he is waiting for Luke to assume the position. 

“What are you waiting for?” Ashton asks, a bemused smile on his face. Luke was so caught up in the sight, that he forgot that he should be moving. He steps out of his jeans and boots, closing the distance to the bed in two long strides. Ashton looks nervous. Luke actually watches him hide it for a split second before he allows his features to morph back into what he’s feeling. Baby steps. 

“I love you,” Luke says because he can, and it feels good to know that Ashton will say it back. He straddles Ashton’s head, his half-hard cock now dangling in front of Ashton’s face. He holds himself up on his hands with locked elbows, very conscious of Ashton’s injuries, not wanting to hurt him. He watches Ashton slowly open his legs. God his legs are so fucking beautiful. 

“I love you, too, but we don’t have all day, baby,” Ashton responds, and Luke can feel Ashton’s chuckle against his lower stomach. He doesn't give Ashton a chance to say much more because Luke dives in, licking a hot stripe from the base of Ashton’s balls all the way to his hole. Ashton hisses, and Luke smiles to himself. 

It’s Luke’s turn to hiss when Ashton takes him deep, not even giving him a warning. Luke subtly bucks into Ashton’s waiting mouth, moaning as he begins to eat Ashton’s ass like his very life depends on it. He can feel Ashton getting harder, his dick pressed against Luke’s chest. Luke tries to keep himself still, not wanting to provide any friction. He wants this to last. 

“Feels so good. Taste even better,” Luke says, and he can feel Ashton nodding on his cock. He gets some sort of satisfaction from having Ashton pinned down and gagged. Ashton is never submissive, and Luke typically likes it that way. Luke likes being the more submissive one in bed, but it’s nice that Ashton is relinquishing his control. It’s a big step, and Luke is going to enjoy it and not let him fall unless it’s falling apart on his tongue. 

“Fuck, Ash, your mouth feels so fucking good,” Luke tells him, the words coming out distorted because Luke’s tongue is currently licking into Ashton’s ass, loosening the tight ring of muscle a little bit. Ashton moans, then Luke hisses when he feels wet fingers circling his own hole. He swears to god, Ashton is magical when it comes to opening lube quietly. 

“Oh my god. Fuck. Ashton. Yes. More,” Luke moans, trying to grind his hips back on Ashton’s fingers but also not wanting to remove Ashton’s mouth from his cock. It's a hard decision, so he settles for a little bit of both, moaning with each sensation the movements of his hips cause. It takes so much concentration and coordination to also eat Ashton out, but Luke is determined to do it. 

He feels it when Ashton adds a second long finger, and Luke dives deeper, licking into Ashton’s hole, pressing his tongue in as far as it can go. Ashton’s responding moan sends tingles up Luke’s cock and all through his body, like the ripples of water when a stone is tossed into it. He is trying to stay conscious of Ashton’s injured body, but it’s difficult when the other man is two fingers deep and moaning around his cock. Fuck. 

“Need you,” Luke gets out, removing himself from Ashton’s ass long enough to say it. He pulls his hips off Ashton’s face, and Luke hears him take a few deep breaths. Ashton’s fingers are still buried inside him though. Luke doesn't want him to remove them, but he also desperately wants Ashton’s dick inside of him instead. It feels like the decision of the century. Luke moves, turning around to find Ashton is already sitting up. 

“Come here, love,” Ashton beckons, scooting on the bed so that his back is resting against the headboard. His cock is hard, precome smearing on his stomach. He has bruises all over him, his side bandaged from the stab wound. He is still the most beautiful person Luke has ever seen, but it serves as a reminder that Ashton isn’t unbreakable. He may be strong, but he can only bend so far before he breaks. Luke watched him snap in half earlier, and he will never ever forget it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Luke says, and he means that in more than one way. Ashton smiles at him, the kind of smile that is so soft, it makes Luke’s heart stop for what feels like an eternity. They are living in the moment between heartbeats, and Luke wants to stay there forever. 

“You won’t, love,” Ashton responds, opening his arms. Luke can see the marks there, and he wants to kiss them. Perhaps he will. He crawls over to Ashton, cupping his jaw when he gets close enough. As if Ashton can’t stop himself, one hand finding Luke’s hip to guide him closer, the other tangling in Luke’s curls. He pulls Luke so that he is straddling him, but he doesn’t move to line himself up. Instead, he kisses Luke gently. 

“If you’re sure,” Luke says because he is still hesitant about this. He didn’t even think about how sore Ashton must be. Just another example of Luke being selfish, but he is trying to change that. He wants to put Ashton first. Ashton is so important to him. 

“Yes, love. I’m sure,” Ashton murmurs against his lips before he kisses him. Luke angles his face down, deepening it, feeling Ashton’s tongue lick the seam of his mouth. He opens it, allowing him entrance in the next second. He will never deny Ashton anything. Fuck. He was so scared of losing this. He thought he had, but now they are kissing in Ashton’s bed. They are still together despite everything, and Luke is close to crying for an entirely different reason. 

“I need to open you up some more. I don’t want to hurt you either,” Ashton says, breaking their kiss to look into Luke’s eyes. He’s never felt so raw. He can feel Ashton’s arm snake between them, slowly pressing his fingers inside Luke’s loosened hole once more. Usually Luke doesn't mind if it hurts, but Ashton seems to be determined for this to be soft. Luke moans, gripping Ashton’s muscular bicep. 

“Ash,” Luke whines, wanting him to just add another already. This feels like teasing, and it is somewhat new territory for them. It’s usually rough and quick, no pretenses of chastity or even foreplay with the exception of last time. Unlike last time, it doesn't feel like their house is burning. Luke plans to rebuild their home out of the mess and their broken pieces. He needs to make up for their tears. 

“I love you so much, Luke,” Ashton says, his hazel eyes wide and honest. Luke is pretty sure he is crying now, the moment feeling too much yet not enough. He is slowly moving his hips on Ashton’s fingers, the grind delicious, but it’s Ashton’s words that are making his head spin. He still can’t believe it. 

“I want to give you everything, Ashton. Everything. My best. I will give you the best years of my life. I promise. I promise you won’t regret this. I will give you everything,” Luke responds, his voice barely above a whisper as tears spring to his eyes. Ashton uses his free hand to wipe away a stray tear that is trailing down Luke’s face. Luke feels like he should be embarrassed, but Ashton’s eyes are just as shiny. 

“I will never, ever regret being with you, Luke. I’ll never regret loving you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Ashton says, pulling Luke down into another gentle kiss. Luke places his hand over Ashton’s forearm, lightly tracing the new cuts. He doesn't think he has hurt Ashton because he doesn’t move or even react. 

“Please never do this to yourself again. Talk to me if you’re thinking about it,” Luke says, moving Ashton’s arm so he can kiss each new mark. Ashton shivers but allows it. 

“I’ll try, baby. I promise. I will try. It’s just really hard for me. It’s like this darkness that I can’t seem to scream through,” Ashton answers, and Luke looks up to see a tear trail down Ashton’s cheek. Luke leans in to kiss it away. Ashton adds another finger then, probably an attempt to steer Luke’s attention away from the current subject. Luke hisses, moaning in pleasure and gripping Ashton’s arm with his free hand. 

“I know. I just ask that you try. Maybe we can come up with like a code- _fuck_ \- or something. A way for you to tell me- _shit right there_ \- without saying it,” Luke pants, trying so hard to stick to the conversation, but Ashton is now pressing three fingers against his prostate, and Jesus fucking Christ, Luke wants to scream. 

“Show me the way?” Ashton asks, and Luke isn’t sure if this is what he wants to use as a code or if he means something else entirely. He is looking up at Luke as if he can. He has never seen him look so vulnerable, so open. He never wants to forget it because he knows Ashton will have days where he is distant and closed off. He knows he will have days where he’s not mentally with Luke, and that’s okay. Luke just needs this. He needs to see this version of Ashton as well. 

“All you have to do is take my hand. I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not afraid of your darkness or mine. We can fumble our way out, and make it to the other side,” Luke responds, grinding down hard on Ashton’s fingers as he leans down to kiss him deeply. Their chests are pressed together. He can feel Ashton’s heartbeat against his own, and it’s like they are finally in sync. It’s taken so long to get to this point, and Luke will fight to stay here, to move beyond it. 

“We can see the sunshine,” Ashton adds, whispering against Luke’s lips. Luke nods, kissing him again. He can’t handle anymore of this. He needs Ashton inside of him. Luke then makes an executive decision. Without breaking their kiss, Luke lifts up so that Ashton’s fingers aren’t inside him any longer. Ashton seems to finally get the hint, grabbing his own cock with his now free hand, so Luke can line himself up easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so... I'm not done with his redemption arch but.... fuck I hope you're closer to forgiving him. Please!
> 
> Also... I CAN'T BELIEVE THERE IS ONLY ONE MORE CHAPTER. HOLY SHIT SNACKS.


	15. Beautiful Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to save Poppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we are finally at the end. I'm so sad to be leaving my babies for a little while, but there is still SO much more to this story. I love writing Lashton, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it! This book has been very challenging to me since I have never written a toxic relationship before. I hope I was able to pull it off! 
> 
> One last time, I would like to thank my two betas, Dana and Linda, as well as Mels for reading this fic and putting up with the constant questioning of my sanity. They are amazing friends, and I love them dearly. 
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, please look at my [author website](https://www.lmarcherofficial.com/=). 
> 
> There is also a [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1l6QjjLoOIRPOCgZt8d4YV?si=8kwH6LpvQzik8AfjPVMPIw) that will be updated weekly with the songs represented as chapter titles as well as any other songs I feel fit with the emotions/theme of the chapter.

_All night  
Laughin' and fuckin'_   
_ Some days like I'm barely breathin'  
After we were high and the love dope died it was you  
The pill I keep takin'  
The nightmare I wake in  
There's nothin', no nothin', nothin' but you  
My perfect rock bottom  
My beautiful trauma  
My love, my love, my drug, oh- P!nk _

Ashton has never felt this connected to someone in his entire life. He didn’t know it was even possible. Luke loves him. He actually loves him even though Ashton broke in front of him. He didn’t leave when Ashton showed weakness. No. He held Ashton and squeezed him back together. Ashton hisses when Luke begins to sink down slowly on his cock, his heat enveloping him. 

“Ash,” Luke moans, gripping Ashton’s bicep. Ashton just nods, even though it wasn’t a question. Luke’s pink mouth is open in bliss, his blue eyes twinkling. His messy curls are sticking up in different directions around his head, two stray ones standing out like horns. Maybe he can deal with Ashton’s demons. Maybe he will hold their hand and take them to coffee and love them unconditionally. 

“Fuck. You feel so good,” Ashton tells him, biting his collarbone because it’s the easiest thing to reach. His fingers are digging into Luke’s hips, silently begging him to start moving, but he also doesn’t want this to end. He is already dangerously close, the build-up has left him teetering on the edge. Luke’s tongue was wicked when he licked into Ashton’s hole. He really should have trusted him to do that years ago. 

Luke doesn't respond, he just begins to move very slowly. His hips grinding to keep Ashton deep within him. Ashton closes his eyes at the sensation, begging himself not to come. He opens them when he feels Luke pull his left arm. Ashton watches Luke bring Ashton’s arm to his lips, kissing each of Ashton’s new cuts. Fresh tears spring to Ashton’s eyes at the gesture, the emotions from earlier overtaking him again. 

“I see your pain. I hear you,” Luke whispers, laying more kisses over the area, the red of the moons tattooed there almost matching his dark lips. Ashton nods, a tear trickling down his face. Luke never stops moving though, pleasure and love coursing through Ashton’s bloodstream. It’s the sweetest mixture Ashton has ever felt, and it makes him happy again. He knows the darkness will return, into the deep confines of his mind’s basement, taking it all away, but he will just have to find his sweetness again. Luke. 

“Help me float,” Ashton says, entangling their fingers for a few seconds then dropping Luke’s hand in favor of using his own to bring Luke’s lips down into a passionate kiss. Luke moans into it, but his hips don’t pick up any speed or momentum. There is no sense of urgency. This is not the quick, rough fuck they are accustomed to. This is new, uncharted territory, and Ashton is enjoying his exploration. 

“Stay with me,” Luke responds, murmuring the words against Ashton’s lips. Ashton hopes he can. He will do everything in his power to. He’s normally not one to ride on the back of false hope and broken dreams, but he will stay with Luke. He will tie another knot in the rope between them and hope, and use it to pull himself out of dissociation, back to Luke. 

“I’m with you, baby,” Ashton whispers, and he means it. He’s with Luke in this moment. He hopes Luke believes him. He doesn't want Luke to feel alone ever again. Luke isn’t unloved. Ashton loves him so much that it physically hurts him. Ashton may not be always able to say that, and that’s something he intends to work on. 

“Fuck. Ash. God,” Luke rambles, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine. One of Ashton’s hands is now cupping Luke’s jaw, his long fingers tangled in his curls. The other has found its way back to Luke’s hip, gripping tightly. He is fully saturated in the moment, letting it seep into his body, and color his bones with its vibrancy.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. I know I don’t tell you enough, but you are. So gorgeous,” Ashton tells him, unable to stop himself from saying the words. He doesn't want to stop himself. He wants to just say the thoughts in his head for once. Luke deserves to hear all of the lovely things Ashton thinks about him, so he is going to make a conscious effort to say them out loud. He feels as though he is finally getting more comfortable with it. It may never be perfect, but he has to try. 

“You do tell me. You tell me in your own way. You say it when you touch me when you kiss me. You say it when you hold my hand or tell guys to fuck off when they hit on me at the bar. You say it in so many ways, I just never listened,” Luke says, his lips grazing over the cut on Ashton’s forehead, right over the butterfly stitch. Ashton closes his eyes, feeling Luke’s love wash over him. 

“Well, I’m touching you right now,” Ashton responds, hand traveling down Luke’s spine, reaching around to feel where his cock is buried deep in Luke’s body as he slowly moves. He groans at the feeling, a mental image flashing in front of his eyes. Luke hisses out a breath when Ashton traces his rim that is currently stretched around Ashton’s dick.

“And I’m listening,” Luke says, the words coming out on a moan, but his hips never pick up their pace. They are slow and methodical as if he is deliberately trying to drive Ashton insane. It’s working. Ashton has never felt crazier for someone. Luke has always been the chaos in Ashton’s life, but right now, Ashton fully plans to follow Luke down into the disarray. He’s embracing it. He doesn't need to control everything. He can dive into Luke’s chaos and survive.

“Good because I love you, and I will never stop saying it out loud. I. Love. You.” The more Ashton says it, the easier it gets. Maybe he will find that will be the case with everything in his head. Maybe it will get easier to voice his thoughts the more he does it. He still doesn’t know how he will tell Luke when he’s upset. He does like the idea of, like, a code word. That may be easier, but Ashton isn’t going to think about that. His mind is too preoccupied by the gradual grind of Luke’s hips, taking him ever closer to the edge. 

“Say it again,” Luke whines, his hips finally speeding up. Thank fuck. Ashton doesn't know how much longer he could handle the tortuous pace. 

“I love you, Luke Hemmings,” Ashton vocalizes, his voice louder and stronger. He kisses Luke between each word, saying them directly to him. Luke moans against his lips, his movements becoming erratic. Fuck. Finally. Holy shit. Ashton grips Luke’s hip but not pushing him or controlling the pace. He just needs something to hang on to. When he soars, it will be with Luke. They’ll float. They’ll fly. They’ll sink. They will be together. 

“I love you, too, Ashton Irwin.” Luke’s voice is breathy, the words sending a wash of pleasure all over Ashton’s body, like waves licking at his limbs. Ashton has dove into the ocean and taken a deep breath, realizing he didn’t drown. He’s surviving on Luke. He’s living in the turbulent waters that is Luke Hemmings, and he will make them his fucking home. He’s not drowning but thriving. He’s also close. So fucking close. 

“Take all of me, Luke. Take everything. The red. The blue. The anger. The sadness. The love. The hope. Take it. Please. Everything,” Ashton begs, suddenly overcome with emotion. He should have given everything to Luke a long time ago. Truth be told, Luke’s already had all of Ashton, he just never admitted it to anyone, including himself. He pretended he had control, but he didn’t. Luke has had his heart for a very long time, and Ashton feels so relieved that he can finally say it. 

“I’ll treasure it. It’s mine. You’re mine,” Luke responds, and Ashton can tell he’s close. It’s in the twitch of his thighs, the way his breath hitches on his words. Ashton knows Luke’s body better than his own. Luke is going to come and Ashton is going to follow him because that’s what he will do forever. He will follow Luke. 

“Yours,” Ashton agrees, kissing Luke, swallowing his moans. A few seconds later, the moans become screams, and Ashton can feel Luke coming on his cock, the way his rim tightens around him. He feels Luke’s sticky release on his stomach, and Ashton can’t stop himself. He comes too, releasing inside Luke’s waiting heat. He bites Luke’s lip, gripping his hips, and it feels like it never stops. The pleasure makes him shake, his entire body involuntarily convulsing under Luke. Suddenly, they’re floating. 

“You with me, babe?” Luke asks, breaking the silence a moment later. 

“Forever,” Ashton responds, blinking a few times to bring Luke back into focus. Luke is smiling down at him, his pink lips looking so kissable that Ashton does just that. He kisses him, soft and sweet. Jesus fuck. He loves him so much it actually pains his chest, his heart unsure of how to beat on it’s own anymore because it belongs to Luke in its entirety. As if it needs Luke’s permission to beat, which it does. 

“We should probably call Louis. Tell him what I found out,” Luke says, his voice hesitant, and Ashton feels like he has been slammed back down into reality. It’s just proof that love doesn't fix everything. They still have a looming threat hanging over their heads and a deadly mission to execute. They could still die, but at least this time, Ashton isn’t in danger of dying with regrets. 

“Yeah. I don’t even know where my cell is,” Ashton responds, thinking he may have left it in the kitchen. Luke slowly gets up, and Ashton hisses when the cool air of the room hits his now soft cock. Luke goes into the bathroom, bringing back a wet washcloth a moment later, then gently wipes the come off Ashton’s chest. They both need a shower, but first, Ashton really does need to call Louis. 

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Luke asks, his voice small and unsure. He suddenly looks sad. Ashton opens his mouth to promise that he will, but he can’t do that. Louis has every reason to never forgive Luke even though Ashton has. He hopes he does, though. 

“I guess we’ll find out. I really don’t want my best friend to hate my boyfriend.” Ashton freezes when he realizes what he just said. He is almost afraid to look at Luke, not wanting to see his reaction. They haven’t talked about it; it just slipped. He doesn't want to step out of line, but Luke is his boyfriend. He has been for a long time regardless of their stupidity. 

“Boyfriend?” Luke asks, and Ashton can’t tell how he feels by the tone of his voice. He finally forces himself to look up. Luke is smiling wide, his straight white teeth glinting in the light. 

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” Ashton asks, still unsure, as he slowly stands from the bed, wincing at the pain in his ribs and side. 

“Yes! Fuck. Of course, I am. Yes,” Luke responds, his voice enthusiastic. His blue eyes are twinkling, and Ashton can’t tell if he is close to crying or if he’s just happy. Either way, he’s fucking beautiful. But then Ashton remembers the reason why they’ve never put a label on it. 

“What about Cherry?” Ashton asks, his heart dropping into the pits of hell just by saying her name. 

“That’s over. I promise. I only want to sleep with you. Just you. I’m done with her and drugs. I’m done with it all, Ashton. I’m so sorry I kept her around. I just… I didn’t think you cared about me. I didn’t think you cared about me fucking her because you never said anything. You acted like you didn’t, but I just want you.” Luke rushes to reassure him, his eyes wide with honesty. 

“I know. It’s my fault just as much as it is yours. I should have made it clear that it bothered me, but I also didn’t want to admit it to myself. It did bother me, though. You’re mine. You have been for a long time, but now I refuse to share you. My boyfriend,” Ashton says, standing up on his tiptoes to peck Luke’s lips, loving the words as they fall from his own. 

“Your boyfriend,” Luke repeats, returning his kiss. “Now, let’s just hope your best friend doesn’t kill your boyfriend.” Luke tries to smile, but Ashton can see the truth in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, breaking away from Luke to look for his phone, repeating the hope like a mantra. Louis wouldn’t kill Luke, right? He almost did though, but he did say that he understood afterward. Fuck. Ashton is dreading this conversation. 

________   
  


**_Sunday night….._ **

“Okay, you all know the plan? Any questions?” Louis asks, looking around at their small group in the SUV. It’s just on the brink of darkness outside, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the windows, casting an orange glow on the faces around him. They have two more cars following them, full of Anne’s most trusted people. Well, Louis supposes they are his people, now, but Louis tries not to think about that. It’s almost too overwhelming. He just wants to focus on saving his sister. 

“I want to go in,” Ashton responds, stubbornly, and Louis is definitely going to tell Niall to pull this car over so he can smack the shit out of his friend. Louis opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by Luke. 

“Babe, please just listen to Louis. You’re still too hurt. It wasn’t nearly as risky last time, and you still reopened your stitches. We need you and Harry to stay back to keep an eye on things,” Luke says, his eyes wide and pleading. Louis looks between them, curious. He has to say he was shocked when Ashton called him that morning, explaining everything. 

He’s still unsure how much he trusts Luke, but Harry begged him to give him another chance. Harry made a good point of needing Luke’s brains for this. Melone will probably have some really high-tech security, and none of Anne’s people even come close to Luke’s level of genius. Louis finally relented, saying that Luke could join them. He just hopes it doesn’t cost him his sister's life. 

“You know how much I hate staying back,” Ashton whines, and Louis almost bursts out laughing. He manages to keep his composure because Harry squeezes his knee in a warning. Harry is clearly watching their interaction too. Something definitely shifted between them at some point, and it’s… well… interesting. 

“I know. I’m listening to you. I know you don’t want to, but it’s for the best. You know that. Please,” Luke begs, reaching out to hold Ashton’s hand. Ashton doesn't pull away like he normally would when he’s irritated. He just entangles their fingers together, and Louis may or may not be amazed. Whatever happened between them must have shaken the Earth. Louis doesn't know how he didn’t feel the quake under his feet. 

“Fine,” Ashton relents after a few moments, and Luke mouths ‘thank you’ before leaning across the seat to kiss Ashton’s pouty lips. Louis' eyebrows reach his hairline as he looks at Harry, his boyfriend sporting a similar expression. Harry just shrugs and smiles, as if saying ‘told you so’. Louis rolls his eyes in response, giving him a small smile. 

“And you better not try to come in after we’ve left. I’ve already told Harry to fucking restrain you if necessary,” Louis interjects, and Harry nods his head beside him as if he is ready.

“That sounds kinky. I didn’t know we were swapping. I don’t think you all are into what I’m into, though,” Niall adds from the driver's seat, making them all burst out laughing, relieving some of the tension that has built up in the car. Louis and Ashton both flip him off simultaneously while Luke and Harry share a knowing smile. 

“I think we're here,” Liam says, and Louis follows his gaze to a large house, with a long driveway. Louis takes a deep breath in nervous anticipation. He’s ready, but he also feels like he’s not. He will probably never be ready. The house isn’t gated like some of the others in the neighborhood. Poppy is in there somewhere, and Louis intends to save her. They aren’t even going to try to be discreet. They park in front of the house, and everyone gets out of the cars, including the men and women Anne sent. They are all wearing bulletproof vests, carrying handguns with suppressors, and look like they are ready for battle. They know the house is heavily guarded. 

“Alright. Harry and Ashton will stay out here and communicate with us through our coms. We may go out of reach at some point, but they call to let someone know if there are others approaching, including Simon. Let's try to make this as quick as possible. We want to save Poppy. That’s it,” Louis says loudly so everyone can hear even though some of them have already begun to advance on the house, going up the driveway. His voice is strong despite the nervous anticipation that is twisting his gut. He kisses Harry, then watches as he and Ashton get into the front of the SUV, ready for when they return, and Louis turns on his heels, promising himself this won’t be the last time he will see Harry. 

“Look. I know you don’t trust me, but I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I know I already said it on the phone, but I wanted to say it in person, too. I’m so sorry for what I did, and I will do anything to prove that I’m loyal to you,” Luke says, walking alongside Louis. 

“We don’t have time for this, Luke. You’re right. I don’t trust you. I understand why you did what you did, but I don’t trust that you will stop,” Louis responds, keeping his eyes trained on the driveway in front of them. It’s almost dark now, but the streetlights are providing some illumination as well as the small lights along the driveway. 

“I haven’t used in 24 hours now. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but I promise, I’ll stay clean,” Luke assures, and Louis glances over at him. His hand is shaking, but there is no other outward sign. Louis knows that the withdrawal symptoms of cocaine are mostly internal. Luke is probably tired and hungry, maybe even having trouble concentrating. Fuck. Louis didn’t even think about that. Even if Luke’s brain is lagging, it is probably still moving at a faster pace than the average person’s though. 

Louis doesn’t have time to respond because he hears gunshots, one of the people in his party falling to the ground. Louis looks around, finding the source. He gets low, shooting at any movement he sees. The countdown has begun it seems. He shoots as he runs, trying to get to the door. A bullet hits him in the back, but the vest does its job at stopping it. It still hurts like a bitch, and he will probably have a bruise. He keeps his feet moving, ignoring the sting. 

“Fuck,” Louis says, the lock on the door, unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

“Let me.” Louis hears a voice, recognizing it as Luke’s. He didn’t know the other man had followed him. Niall and Liam are running to catch up. Louis can still hear gunshots from where he had just been, but they are slowing down, probably having killed the people that were firing. Louis moves out of the way, watching Luke stare at the device for a few moments. 

His thin fingers slide alongside the box, then he grips it. It pops open easily, revealing what looks like a tiny computer. Luke reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small tool kit. Louis watches his back, shooting one person who seems to have found them. A few seconds later, he hears a click. He looks back, finding Luke opening the door. He nods at him, going in first with his gun poised, ready to fire. He kills two men quickly before they even get a chance to fire at him. There are two more though, and Louis ducks behind the island in the kitchen they seemed to have walked into. Luke follows him, both peering around to see if they can get a shot. 

Louis watches when one of them goes down, hearing the fire of a gun nearby. He looks at the doorway, finding Liam had been the one to shoot him. Louis is kind of impressed. Maybe Liam does have this in him after all. Niall shoots the other one, and Louis thinks it may be safe to come out from behind the Island. 

“Outside’s clear,” someone says as they step over the threshold, more people filing in behind them. Louis thinks his last name is Clifford, but he can’t be sure. 

“How many?” Louis asks the question hanging in the air. 

“We’re down three. One is injured and two are dead,” Clifford responds, his voice somber. Louis nods, trying to push the feeling of guilt aside. It’s a part of the job. He knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. More lives are on his hands. It shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but Louis feels like everything is on a giant scale. All of his misdeeds on one side being weighed against the good things he’s done. He’s scared to see which side will tip. 

“Alright. Split up. If anyone finds anything, call for me on the coms. If it looks high-tech, call for Luke as well. Check every room. Look for anything that could lead to a secret room,” Louis instructs, keeping his tone low so others that are probably still standing guard in the house can’t hear. The assembled people nod once, all going in different directions when they walk out of the kitchen. Liam and Niall go upstairs with a few people, and Luke and Louis stay on the ground floor with the rest. Louis tries not to worry too much about his friends. 

They walk slowly through the house, the lights already on. Louis wonders where Melone is but pushes it to the back of his mind. He knows one thing for sure, Melone wasn’t expecting them so Luke didn’t lie about that. He could still be lying about the fact that Poppy is there, but he brought hard evidence to back up his claim. It would have been a lot of effort to fabricate it. 

They shoot a few more guards, not finding anything suspicious. The house is big, forcing them to split up even more. Eventually, Louis is left alone, creeping carefully from room to room. Jesus fuck. They don’t have time to figure out their way around Hogwarts. There has to be a changing staircase around here somewhere. They need to find Poppy before more men are called as backup. 

Louis lets out a pained gasp when he is hit on the back of the head by a fist. He turns around, finding one of Melone's men poised to hit him in the face. He wonders why he didn’t shoot him? Do they have orders not to? Louis doesn't have time to ponder it because he’s dodging the man’s attack, tackling him to the hardwood floor a moment later. They wrestle, each man trying to get the upper hand before Louis is able to land a punch to the throat, shooting him in the head a moment later. 

Louis stands up, dusting off his jeans, then continues walking, eventually opening a door into what seems to be a game room. He is surprised to see three people standing there, all holding guns. Interesting. Louis manages to shoot one before he even gets a chance to fire a round at him. The others, though, begin shooting. Louis’ side stings when it is hit by a bullet, the vest stopping it from going further than the surface. Louis runs, hiding behind the nearby couch. It won’t protect him for very long, no matter how ridiculously expensive it is. He holds his side, hissing because it hurts to breathe. He’s going to be very bruised tomorrow. 

He reaches his hand over the back and begins blindly firing his gun. He doesn't think he hits anything other than electronics or maybe a wall. He reloads it, taking some deep breaths when more bullets are shot into the couch that is at his back. Fuck. He could make a run for the exit. It’s nearby, but he has a feeling that something special is in this room. Three men wouldn’t have been guarding it otherwise. They stop firing, probably to reload. Louis takes that moment to pop up from behind the couch, aiming and shooting one of the men in the head. He falls to the ground with a sick thud. 

He starts to train his gun on the other one, but when he pulls the trigger, the sound of a shot is never heard, just an empty click. He just reloaded, so it must be jammed. Fuck. Louis ducks the next bullet being shot at him. His heart is beating rapidly. He can hear the footsteps of the person coming around the couch. They have the upper hand, and they know it. Fuck. Louis holds his breath, trying to gauge how close the man is to him. 

His hands are shaking so badly, he is having trouble unjamming the gun. His other gun is empty, sitting in his holster. When the guy walks around the corner, Louis thinks fast, kicking him in the knee cap. The guy lets out a groan, missing the shot he was going to take, hitting the floorboard mere inches from Louis’ head. Louis stands up quickly, using the butt of his gun to hit the guy in the temple, rendering him unconscious. 

“You good?” says a voice, and Louis nearly jumps out of his skin. He points his useless gun in the direction, ready to fire, but sees Luke. He looks scared, his own hands up in the air. Louis takes a deep breath, lowering his gun. 

“Yeah. I think there is something up with this room. Three guys were in here,” Louis responds, looking around. Luke does the same, each of them inspecting the walls and the floorboards for anything that seems off. After a few moments, Louis notices something.

“That’s weird. There are two thermostats in here. That’s not normal for one room,” Louis says, glancing from one to the other. He goes over to one, knocking on the wall and listening. “I think this is hollow.” Louis knocks again, the distinct sound of an echo returning to his ear a moment later. 

“Wait. You were on to something with the second thermostat,” Luke says, inspecting the device. He runs his fingers along it, and Louis hears a click a moment later. The casing of the thermostat comes off, revealing a lock of some kind. Louis bends down to inspect it alongside Luke. 

“What do you think? Retina scanner? Fingerprint? Voice recognition?” Louis asks, standing up to pace the room. He feels like he is seconds away from jumping out of his skin. 

“I think it’s more complicated than that. Maybe all three,” Luke responds, his voice distracted. Louis feels so fucking helpless. His gut is telling him that his sister is on the other side of this wall. They just need to get to her. “I’m gonna try to override the lock with my phone. I don’t know if I can.” 

Louis watches for what feels like hours when it’s probably only a handful of minutes. Luke has a determined look on his face, his pink tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrates on whatever the fuck he’s doing. Louis forces himself to look away to unjam his gun, finally getting it after the first few tries. His hands are still shaking, and he is on high alert, his brain seeming to register every little sound. The unconscious guard begins to groan, so Louis shoots him in the head. 

“Do you need me to go find Melone and torture the codes out of him?” Louis asks, feeling his patience begin to run thin. He also has no idea how the other people in the house are fairing. What if Niall and Liam are dead? What about the others they brought along? Jesus fuck. All of them are just sacrificing themselves for Louis and his sister. 

“I think I got it,” Luke responds after a few moments, and Louis is still holding his breath. He waits for a click or something, anything indicating that a door has been opened. The anticipation feels like it’s eating him alive, already devouring his gut and moving on to his limbs, forcing them to shake uncontrollably. 

“Did anything happen?” Louis asks, looking at Luke in confusion. 

“Fuck. Hold on,” Luke says, looking back down at his phone. “I need my laptop, but it’s in the van.” Louis can tell he’s frustrated. 

“Can you walk Ash or Harry through whatever you need?” 

“I can try,” Luke responds, pulling his com from his ear and replacing it with the phone a moment later. Louis listens intently as Luke walks Ashton through the steps of hacking into the wireless device. He also hears Ashton cussing every few words, clearly getting irritated with the task at hand. Harry’s voice is always right behind it, telling Ashton to calm down and focus or offering reassurance. 

Louis briefly wonders what they’ve been talking about alone in the car. He has a sneaky suspicion that Harry got him to open up about Luke because Harry seems to be invested in their relationship for whatever reason. If anyone can get Ashton to talk, it’s probably Harry. Louis freezes when he hears a click. 

“You did it, babe! Thank you!” Luke is saying enthusiastically into the phone, a huge smile on his face. Nothing opens, but Louis knows he heard a click. Instead of the wall, it sounded like it came from the floor. Louis looks down, noticing a few of the floorboards don’t quite look like they blend in anymore. Maybe they never really did. Louis steps around, presses the ball of his foot hard, feeling them move under him. It’s definitely an entrance. 

“Here,” Louis says, getting down on his knees, but there is nowhere to put his fingers. They got it unlocked, but it’s still not opened. Fuck. Louis stares at it a few minutes, feeling around the edges to locate where the latch may be. It takes him a few tries, but he eventually presses down hard enough on the right spot, getting the latch to release. It pops open. He looks at Luke, swallowing with nervous anticipation in his gut. Fuck. What if Poppy is dead?

“Come on. Let’s save your sister this time,” Luke encourages, and Louis nods once, going down the stairs and into the darkness. He clicks his flashlight on so he can see. It seems to be a holding cell. He finds the light switch, turning it on. It’s small and incredibly basic. There is a toilet, a wooden chair, and a cot. In the cot is very clearly someone sleeping. 

“Poppy,” Louis says, running over to the body. There is no response though, not even a movement. Louis grabs her shoulder, turning her over onto her back easily. It’s definitely Poppy. She looks so much like his mom, it hurts Louis’ soul. Her eyes are closed, and she’s thin and pale as if she hasn’t been eating nor has seen any amount of sunlight in a while. This is her, though. This is his fucking sister, and he thinks he may be crying. Holy shit. 

“Is she alive?” Luke asks, and Louis doesn't even look at him, knowing he has made his way down the stairs, too. He touches her skin, finding it warm which is a good sign. He tries not to focus on the fact that this is the first time he has ever really laid eyes on his sister. He tries not to think about the fact that he may actually get to know her, if she’s alive. Louis checks for her pulse. 

“Yeah. I think she may be drugged. Let’s get her out of here,” Louis says, bending down to pick her up. He hears the loud bang of a gunshot echoing in the small space, ringing in his ears before he feels the pain. 

_________

Luke jumps at the sound of a gun going off behind him. He doesn’t feel any pain, so maybe they missed. He looks behind him, gripping his own 9mm in his hand as he turns around. “Mickey Melone. Shouldn’t you be dead?” Luke asks, his ears still ringing from the gun going off in such a small area. In fact, he can barely hear anything. 

“I think that’s your friend,” Melone responds, and what? Luke must have misheard, but the sounds around him are slowly starting to return. That’s when he hears cries of agony coming from the floor. He looks down, finding Louis there, holding the back of his thigh. There is blood everywhere. Fuck. Luke aims his gun back up, but Melone’s is trained on him. 

“Don’t even bother. Simon and two dozen armed men are on their way. You’re not gonna make it out of this alive. You’re the Hemmings kid right?” Melone asks, squinting at Luke. Luke doesn't respond, refusing to give him any information. “You’re the one that found me right? Had to be you. Simon said you're some kind of computer genius.” 

Luke still doesn't answer, just stares at him, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably. He feels like he is going to vomit, another wave of withdrawal symptoms hitting him. His desire for cocaine has gotten worse as the day passed, but he’s been trying to distract himself. Distractions don’t seem to be working anymore because he suddenly finds himself wanting a line. It would calm him down, help him think. He needs to think. 

“You know, it’s not too late to join us. Be on the winning team,” Melone offers, and Luke’s eyes snap up. 

“I killed some of your men,” Luke responds with a shrug, his gun still trained on Melone. They are in a standoff now, unsure of who will get the first shot. 

“Yeah? So? They are a dime a dozen. Just shows that you’re smart. Simon needs more people like you,” Melone says, eyeing Luke up and down. It makes him feel uncomfortable. It’s also weird that Simon has been talking about him to his buddy. Luke does feel somewhat defeated, though. The situation seems dire, as if there is no way to get out of it alive. He just hopes Harry and Ashton have had the sense to save themselves like Luke plans to. 

“Okay. I’ll join the winning team,” Luke responds with a nod. He lowers his gun, a show of surrender. Melone smiles, reminding Luke very much of Simon. Luke thinks he is going to throw up. When Melone drops his weapon, pointing the barrel at the floor, Luke quickly raises his gun. He doesn't even bother to aim, just shoots, hitting Melone in the heart. Melone’s eyes are wide in surprise as he drops the ground, the gun falling to his side with a loud clatter. 

Luke doesn't even watch him die, his attention focusing back on Louis who is still writhing on the floor. “Louis. Still with me?” Luke asks, his heart racing. Melone had shot Louis in the back of the thigh, and judging by the amount of blood, Luke thinks he may have hit the femoral artery. Fuck. Louis is going to die if Luke doesn’t do something. 

“Luke. Take Poppy and go. Leave me,” Louis says through gritted teeth, sweat breaking out on his brow. His breaths are labored, normally tan skin now ashy white. 

“No, Louis. I’m not leaving you,” Luke responds, standing up and grabbing the wooden chair that is sitting nearby. He slams it hard against the concrete floor a few times, the wood finally shattering against the unforgiving surface. He then takes off his jacket, followed by his t-shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Louis asks. 

“Making a tourniquet before you bleed out,” Luke responds, grabbing one of the legs of the chair and kneeling down beside Louis. 

“We don’t have fucking time Luke. Just go. Save Poppy. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Shut up, Louis. If I leave here without you, Harry will break his no violence rule and eat my heart on a silver plate, not to mention whatever Ashton will do to me,” Luke argues, thankful that his t-shirt is old and already has a hole in it. He uses his fingers to rip it the rest of the way, pulling it apart easily. He lifts Louis’ leg, looping fabric around the top of his thigh, above the wound. He then ties either end of the shirt to the leg of the chair. 

“Luke, please.” 

“Plus, we need a leader. You’re the best person for that job,” Luke adds, ignoring Louis. “This is gonna hurt. Here bite down on this.” Luke places the folded-up arm of his leather jacket between Louis’ teeth. The other man nods, and Luke begins twisting the fabric, using the chair leg as leverage to slowly cut off Louis’ circulation to his leg. Louis screams in agony, the veins in his throat popping out with the force, but his voice is muffled by the leather in his mouth. Luke feels horrible, but it needs to be done. 

Once he thinks it’s tight enough, he stops twisting it, tying it off quickly with bloody hands. Louis is breathing heavily, but the blood gushing out of the wound has slowed down dramatically. “Come on, Lou. Up you go,” Luke says, standing up then hoisting the smaller man over his shoulder, placing his arm between his legs to keep him balanced. Next, he looks at Poppy. She seems to have woken up during the whole ordeal, but she’s not very coherent. 

“Can you walk?” he asks, bending down to look at her. She seems relatively unharmed, just dazed. She looks a lot like Louis and Lottie, the family resemblance strong. He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed it when they first kidnapped her. Fuck. 

“I don’t-” she responds weakly, her eyes drifting shut. 

“I’m Luke. This is your older brother Louis. I know this sounds crazy, but we are trying to help you. Get you back to your sister, you just have to try to walk for me, okay? Can you do that?” Luke asks, shaking her a bit. She nods but doesn’t seem too sure of herself. He helps her stand. She leans against him heavily, but she begins slowly moving. 

“Niall, what’s the status report?” Luke asks into the com, barely managing to get his hand up to his ear without dropping Louis. He may have passed out from blood loss. His body is limp, and Luke prays that he’s not dead. He really doesn't want Louis to be dead. 

“All clear for now. Everyone’s dead. We lost a couple of others, but Liam and I are relatively unscathed. Where are you guys? Lou said you found her earlier. Is she okay?” Niall asks, his voice somewhat frantic in Luke’s ear. He steps over Melone’s lifeless body, glad the man is actually dead this time. It will be a nice little message for Simon. He’s sure that Simon has video surveillance in all of the rooms. 

“Yeah. She’s just drugged. Simon’s on his way, though, so keep an eye out. I’ll be out soon,” Luke says, not even bothering to call for help. There is no way he would even be able to tell them where he is. He goes up the stairs carefully, trying not to fall. It’s hard with Louis on his shoulder, and Poppy leaning on his other side. She’s light though, so it’s not that bad. He can do this. He doesn't need cocaine to be a superhero. He can save them. 

As quickly as he can, he retraces his steps, finding his way out of the house and into the driveway. He picks Poppy up with his free hand, her limbs finally giving out. He begins running when he hears Niall urging him on in his ear. As he clears the driveway, Harry is running up to him, Ashton right behind him. 

“What happened?” Harry asks, his voice frantic. 

“Melone shot Louis, but then I shot Melone. Melone’s dead, now,” Luke recounts, out of breath. He hands Louis’ completely limp body to Harry. He cradles him like the precious object he is, his mouth is open in fear and shock. 

“Is Louis…” Harry’s question trails off on a swallow. Even in the darkness, Luke can see the tears in his eyes. He is looking at Luke pleadingly as if he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Luke sees Liam and Niall come running up too, and he hands Poppy off to Liam, too tired to keep holding her anymore. Ashton is at his side, his warm hand on Luke’s bareback. 

“I don’t think so. I tied off his leg. We need to get him to Anne’s doctor immediately,” Luke explains, trying to catch his breath. He doesn't have time, though, because they are moving again, Ashton grabbing his hands and forcing his exhausted body to take more steps. Niall and Liam get into one of the other vans, quickly explaining that there are others injured. They take Poppy with them. Ashton gets into the driver's seat, starting up their own van while Harry and Luke take Louis into the back. 

“Luke, could he lose his leg? Could he die?” Harry asks, his normally even tone on the verge of hysteria. Luke grabs the first aid kit they already have in the back, beginning to pack the wound with sterile gauzes. He doesn't remove the shirt that’s already there though, and he doesn't dare untie the tourniquet. It’s doing its job, slowing down the blood flow. 

“If we can get him to a doctor ASAP, he’ll be fine, but honestly Harry, I don’t know about his leg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... so it's just a TINY TINY cliffhanger... barely even considered one really. 
> 
> See you in four weeks... and so you don't have to look at your calendar that will be April 1st! I promise, no pranks here. I love you all. 
> 
> I can't believe this is over. I really loved writing this and thank you all so much for trusting me on this journey. Like I said, still one more and lots to discover about this group. I'm so excited! Until the 1st!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments are always welcome! They keep us alive. 
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns or just want to talk to me about this fic or any of my fics, you can follow me on social media. 
> 
> Twitter: Wicked_Archer  
> Tumblr: Wicked-Archer


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